


Driving without the Manual

by GypsyReaper



Series: H is for Human [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alcoholic Dean, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, BAMF!Impala, Brotherly Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Demons, Depression, Drama, Emotional Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sam, Gabriel and Crowley are frenemies, Gen, Gizzly Momma Impala, Golems, Grace Sharing, Hellhounds, Human Female Impala, Humor, King of the Crossroads, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Protective!Impala, Spells & Enchantments, Trickster - Freeform, Winchester Cubs, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsyReaper/pseuds/GypsyReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "The H on the Gearshift is for Human"</p><p>The Apocalypse weighs heavily on the Winchesters as they try to thwart Lucifer and Michael's plans to destroy the world while trying to keep each other from falling prey to despair. Enemies become allies in unusual ways as Baby is returned to the Winchesters' side to protect them from Heaven, Hell, and even each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Star Gazing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! So, everyone who read the original fic seemed to love it so much, and human!Impala as a character so much, that I decided to continue the story with this multi-chapter monster that rewrites most of season 5! Yay! (It also doesn’t help that I truly loved writing her human character as much as I did. All those car analogies were fun!)
> 
> Since I originally planned on the first fic in this series to be a one-shot only, I didn’t specify when it happened; I just set it up so it could be squeezed into the Season 5 canon whenever. 
> 
> However, now I want to play around with the major canon episodes, so things are going to be out of order, completely removed, etc.. As long as you know the main plot points for season 5 you should be fine 

Dean’s brilliant green eyes opened wide as his body surged upright in fear, gasping loudly as he awoke with a start. Sweat soaked the t-shirt and pair of boxers he slept in; his whole body shivered and his heart pounded so hard it hurt his chest. He paused, momentarily unsure where he was, until the disco ball hanging over his bed reminded him of _exactly _where he was.__

__He was in another craptastic motel room, on the road with Sam. They’d just finished up a completely normal, had-nothing-to-do-with-the-Apocalypse case, and he’d downed a few beers at a local bar before returning to the room a few hours ago. He didn’t drink nearly enough, it seemed, considering the nightmares that tormented his sleep._ _

__Dean blinked a couple times and found Sam slumped over the small table along the opposite wall, his laptop open in front of him but the screen black. The snores that drifted from him confirmed that he was merely asleep. Why Sam had fallen asleep in front of his computer was the question. They’d just finished a case; even Sam usually waited at least 8 hours before he started looking for another one._ _

__Shaking his head, Dean managed to quietly pad over to his giant of a brother slouched over the table and shook Sam’s shoulder just enough to wake him up, but not enough to startle him into swinging. Dean had gotten a few black eyes over the years when he’d startled his little brother awake._ _

__“Yo, Sammy, it’s bedtime. Come on, Sam, even nerd-geniuses gotta sleep,” Dean said gruffly. Sam woke up long enough to walk over to his bed, take off his boots and face-plant himself into the pillow, snoring before he’d even landed._ _

__Feeling awake, Dean felt a little thrill of mischief when he glanced at the laptop again. Curiosity got the best of him, and he turned on the screen to find several website tabs open._ _

__“Please be porn,” Dean whispered to himself. If it was, he would tease Sam with it mercilessly. Unfortunately Sam had gotten good at covering his tracks but the big brotherly urge was too strong and the set-up too perfect._ _

__What he got was not what he was expecting. Sure, there were a couple tabs for CNN and a couple other global news sites—the usual stuff a hunter who wanted to keep an eye on things would have open. Things got interesting when Dean clicked through the rest of the tabs, his smirk becoming a frown._ _

Golems seemed to be Sam’s obsession. Every professional hunter and amateur hack website with even a mention of the things was open. Hell, there were even a couple pages about movies with golems in it open on his laptop. 

_Golems are creations of—_

_Golems usually are created by—_

_Usually created as manifestations of protection, based on personal connection to the inanimate object--_

_Golems are the ultimate slave race—_

_Useful as stooges, bodyguards—_

_Powerful, deadly, loyal, with no personality or wit—_

Dean almost broke the lid of the laptop, he slammed it down so hard. He got up and tried to stomp to the refrigerator in the room but the shag carpet ate up his footfalls. He yanked out the sole survivor of the six-pack he’d brought back earlier. Grabbing his balled up clothes, he yanked on his jeans, a Henley long-sleeve, boots, and jacket. He stuffed the beer into his pocket before sneaking out their front door, careful to leave the line of salt untouched. 

__Behind the door, Sam snored on._ _

__Normally he wouldn’t do anything to draw attention to himself but Dean wasn’t really in the mindset to care about petty things like public intoxication, or even getting arrested for it. Since they had been at the motel for several days, he had yet to see anything resembling a police presence or even other guests. He decided he could screw the rules tonight._ _

__Moving like the professional cat burglar/ninja he was, Dean silently hopped onto the parked Impala’s hood just a few feet from his room, not even getting a scruff of dirt on the shining black finish of his pride and joy. He scooted his butt up the hood until he could recline against the windshield and leaned back to stare up into the night sky._ _

__His breath came out in little puffs of fog against the cool night air; the sky was ink and drizzled with millions of stars. It is truly beautiful country out here, Dean thought to himself, silently sipping from the beer out of habit rather than need._ _

__“The stars are beautiful,” a gruff voice said next to him, and Dean didn’t even react except to give the trench-coat wearing angel a once-over, just to make sure he wasn’t injured._ _

__Dean nodded. “That’s something we can agree on.”_ _

__The hunter’s eyes softened slightly when a he gazed a few seconds too long at the angel next to him, whose eyes were glued to the star-studded expanse above them. Though they hadn’t known each other long, it was difficult to remember a time when Castiel wasn’t hovering nearby. Of course, that could have had something to do with his utter lack of understanding personal space, but Dean had gotten used to Castiel’s quirks long ago._ _

__Dean chuckled. Seemed like Castiel did perch on his shoulder, despite what he said to Dean the second time they ever spoke. Back then they were simply the Righteous Man and the Angel of the Lord; oh, how the raising of Lucifer had changed everything._ _

__Dean Winchester never thought he’d consider one of his best friends a legitimate Angel, and yet here he was, sipping beer and star-gazing with one. Even if his life could be measured in decibels of crazy, this would _still_ read off the charts._ _

__Dean offered the half-drunk bottle to Cas. “Want some?”_ _

__Castiel shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve learned my lesson about alcohol.”_ _

__Dean snickered slightly. “Cas, everyone’s got that one awkward drunk story. Besides, it wasn’t even that bad. You should see Sam on a bender sometime,” Dean joked._ _

__Castiel gave him a disbelieving look, but he turned back to looking up at the sky. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Dean?”_ _

__“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Permanently,” he added after a moment’s thought._ _

__Castiel cast a sideways glance at him and sighed. “Nightmares again?”_ _

__Dean bit his lip for a moment, mulling over exactly what to say. He wanted to deny it, put on a show of bravado for his angelic friend. However, the stars, the beer, the lack of sleep, something was making the idea of lying feel…wrong. He was too drained to argue, that much he was sure of._ _

__“Yeah, nightmares,” Dean said, running a hand through his hair. “The usual. Hell, Mom dying, Sammy dying, me dying—I think I’m starting to see a pattern here—the end of the world, teletubbies—“_ _

__Castiel gave him a narrow-eyed look and Dean held up his hands. “Dude, they have little T.V.s in their stomachs! How is that not sick and twisted?”_ _

__If Dean hadn’t spent so much time learning to speak Castiel, he would have missed the tiny upturned corner that was a smirk in angel-ese._ _

__Cas returned to looking up at the twinkling lights scattered across the inky expanse overhead. “It’s hard to believe that, despite everything that is happening now, those stars still offer a comforting presence to me after all this time,” he said sagely._ _

__“Cas, how old are you?”_ _

__A rueful smile ghosted across the angel’s lips. “Old enough. Not quite old enough to have seen those stars as they were created; that is an honor held by the archangels. In fact, it’s said that God based the brilliance of those stars on Lucifer’s light. He is the Morning Star, after all.”_ _

__“Stop, man. Now I’m getting a mental image of the flying dick squadron watching the first sunrise and singing ‘kum-ba-yah’ together in a tender moment of brotherly bonding. This shit’s easier to deal with if I just imagine them as villains with sticks up their asses.”_ _

__Castiel actually chuckled at that. “If it helps, Lucifer didn’t seem to care much for us younger angels. Although, Gabriel liked us well enough._ _

__“You mean Gabriel wasn’t a complete asshole back then?”_ _

__“Not…completely. He still had a terrible taste in practical jokes, of which only Uriel seemed to enjoy. Gabriel was a good brother, though. He even taught us how to fly.”_ _

__In the distance a car drove by on the highway, but there were few travelers at that time of night. For several peaceful moments Castiel continued to stare at the sky and Dean kept nursing his beer. A thought occurred to the hunter and he turned slightly so he could see Castiel’s reaction._ _

__“Cas? Are you losing your mojo?”_ _

__A flash of nervousness passed over Castiel’s face. Dean let the question hang in the air with no obvious attempt to change the subject, causing Castiel to sigh in defeat. Castiel’s shoulders slumped just slightly and he wasn’t sitting with his back ramrod straight like he usually did. Even if Castiel didn’t bother to answer Dean’s question, Dean already knew the answer._ _

__“Why do you ask, Dean?”_ _

__“You’ve been riding with us in the Impala for these past few weeks. You used to just, you know, pop in and out wherever we were. I mean, you disappear every now and then but not nearly as much as you did before.”_ _

__Cas nodded once somberly. “My ability to fly has diminished greatly since I was brought back. As I said before, my connection to the Host is fading over time.” Castiel’s blue eyes shifted to his hand, and he stared at it. “But, that’s not the only reason I remain with you and Sam. With Lucifer walking the Earth and God no longer part of the plan, where else am I supposed to go?”_ _

__“I know we already hashed this out earlier, but I’m still sorry, Cas. Finding out God is on the deadbeat dad list sucks ass.”_ _

__Castiel scoffed unconsciously. “What’s the plan, now that this case is over?” Castiel asked, clearly wanting to steer clear of that particular topic of conversation._ _

__Dean ran a hand through his hair and over his face, trying to drive away the exhaustion stubbornly clinging to his soul. “So far, we’re heading to Bobby’s in the morning. After that? No idea. Should probably start trying to figure out where the hell these other two Horsemen are dicking around at and figure out how to gank them too.” Dean drained the last of his beer and licked his lips against the cool night air._ _

__Dean spoke with finality in his voice, yet he didn’t move from his spot on the car and so Castiel remained at the hunter’s side. He waited patiently to see if Dean wished to speak further; sure enough after a few moments he spoke again._ _

__The hunter patted the black metal under him with gentle affection and let out an aggravated sigh. “Sam, he hasn’t…he’s still looking for that stupid spell!” Dean said, sounding angry. “How many weeks has it been since that day? And despite everything that’s happened he won’t give up!”_ _

__That got Castiel’s attention. “You want him to stop searching for the spell?”_ _

__“I want him to wake up and face facts, Cas!” Dean said harshly. “We’re running from Heaven and Hell—there’s bigger things we need to worry about. Not to mention the fact that Sam hasn’t been able to find anything on it—if _my_ little brother can’t find any word on this spell after weeks of searching, I’m starting to think the damn thing doesn’t exist.”_ _

__“Dean, you can’t give up now. On _anything_ ,” Cas said sternly. His blue eyes were locked onto Dean’s emerald ones, trying to pull Dean from the dark thoughts swirling around in his mind. _ _

__“Sam refuses to give up because he has faith—in you, in the Impala. Even in me. You might think it’s a waste of time, but the Impala was a powerful guardian and ally; at the moment we are sorely lacking both. With my ‘mojo’ continuing to dwindle, I won’t be able to save you, Dean. I won’t have the means to.”_ _

__Castiel’s hands curled into slightly shaking fists, which he stuffed into his coat pockets so Dean didn’t see them. Cas continued to fight the overwhelming surge of hopelessness that was constantly hounding him, but he wasn’t a complete fool either. He knew the odds were stacked against them, high enough to reach Heaven even, but Castiel also knew that if he lost his determination, Dean was sure to follow._ _

__He needed to show Dean that giving up was not the answer. If either Dean or Sam got that thought into their head, the world was doomed._ _

__Dean turned away from Castiel’s gaze and let out a huff. “My friggin’ car isn’t going to save the world, Cas,” he said bitterly._ _

__“Not if you give up on her, she won’t,” Castiel said with finality in his tone. “She was there for you before, now it’s your turn.”_ _

__Dean didn’t even have to hear the rustle of wings to know Castiel was gone. Where he could have gone was anyone’s guess._ _

__The angel had stirred up ideas and thoughts and feelings in Dean’s mind and heart that he didn’t want to deal with. Couldn’t deal with. Not without a ton more alcohol, anyway._ _

__Dean hopped off the car nimbly and stood for a few moments just staring at it. It wasn’t hard to remember her—those crystal clear headlights as chrome eyes, the large steel frame her tall and strong figure. She was easy to talk to and easy to anger. Despite driving her every day, Dean had to admit he missed the sass._ _

__He pinched the bridge of his nose, already knowing what he was going to do. They’d go back to Bobby’s tomorrow and he’d let Sam scour through the old tomes and journals Bobby’s had. Dean knew Sam—the kid was like a dog with a bone once he made up his mind on something. He’d keep gnawing on it under he got what he wanted. If he was serious about looking, Dean would let him. Because Sam and Cas were right. They needed her._ _

__If she could keep the nightmares and demons and angels away, then God they _desperately_ needed her._ _

__If she could keep away the Dark Thought that was circling the dark edge of his mind, then he needed her too. Before he did something _terrible_._ _

__~*~_ _

__The next morning Sam, Dean, and Castiel piled into the Impala per usual and Dean made a show of looking through the glove box for something. Sam started to get irritated when it seemed Dean was just fishing around for nothing when Dean actually pulled out a cassette tape case that Sam had never seen before._ _

__Sam looked at the tape curiously, then turned back to Dean with a quirky smile on his face. “Since when do you listen to Ozzy?”_ _

__Dean gave his younger brother a haughty look. “Dude, Ozzy rocks. On occasion,” he added, along with making the ‘devil’s horns’ gesture with his hand. He didn’t mention that he’d started listening to the heavy metal king after Sam had left for Stanford; it was the first cassette tape he had bought for himself that wasn’t from John’s old collection._ _

__As he pulled the tape out and stuck it into the player, Dean also pulled out a photograph and a roll of scotch tape from the glove box. Sam looked at Dean, surprise and a bit of an embarrassed blush on his face, but his grin was so wide it was contagious when Dean taped the picture to the dashboard._ _

__It was the picture Bobby had taken during Baby’s last moments as a human. It was strange, seeing them standing next to her, with her black spiked hair, black clothing, leather jacket, and knowing it was the same car they were sitting in right at that moment. Even though the picture was in monochrome, her eyes still had an intensity that shown through, even if their silver color did not._ _

__She looked so happy with the boys, and Sam and Dean were smiling so widely in the picture, that they couldn’t help but grin at it._ _

__Dean affectionately patted the dashboard. “We’ll get you back,” he promised. He glanced at Sam but didn’t have to say anything else. Sam simply nodded enthusiastically beside him._ _

__In the backseat, Castiel’s piercing eyes stared at Dean through the rear-view mirror, but Dean didn’t have to say a word to get his message across. _Heard you loud and clear, Cas. Maybe this is a stupid idea, but we should at least try.__ _

__Castiel leaned forward slightly. “Are we ready to leave?” he asked._ _

__“We are now!” Dean said, actually smiling as he pushed the play button on the radio._ _

__“ALL ABOOOOOAAAAARD!!! HA HA HA HA HA HA……!”_ _


	2. Awkward Conversations

The trip to Bobby’s was uneventful, boring even. Long country miles seemed to continue forever, the monotony only broken up by the changing of tapes and towns that were interspersed among the cornfields, tobacco fields, and patches of woods. The only time excitement seemed to occur was when they were still a few hours from the old man’s place, late in the afternoon, and they stopped at a small gas station to fill up the Impala. 

Normally Cas stayed in the car whenever Dean or Sam had to go into a store, but today he decided to tag along with them. It was like dragging a four year old around. Every few feet Cas had to stop and pick something up off the shelf and ask Dean a million questions about it. 

“What’s this? What’s that? Why do people eat this, don’t they know it’s nutritionally devoid?” 

“That’s why it’s called junk food, Cas. People eat it because it tastes good. Not everyone wants to live on rabbit food,” Dean muttered while smirking at Sam.

Sam decided to start answering Cas’s non-ending barrage of questions when he could tell Dean was getting frustrated and just wanted to leave. This was evidenced by Dean _very_ blatantly leafing through the porn magazines, hoping to scare off the angel and little brother. While Sam took the hint and stayed away, Cas didn’t seem to notice the cue. 

He simply started asking questions about the variety of magazines. Insightful, curiosity-driven questions like “Why are there only females on these magazines? Are women not as sexually attracted to the male form?”

“It’s mostly guys who like this stuff, if you want dudes, read the Playgirl on the second shelf.”

“Dean, what’s a MILF?”

“….”

“Dean? Why are you laughing?” 

"It's an acronym. Sam knows what it means." 

The bitch face he got for that was completely worth it. 

The guy behind the counter seemed to have caught most of the conversation, but instead of giving the three of them bizarre looks, he simply chuckled at them while ringing up their granola bars, water, bananas (stupid Sammy being healthy) the candy bars and a six-pack of cheap beer (Dean ignored the eye-roll those two items earned him).

“Let me guess. Foreigner?” he asked, glancing at Castiel but grinning. 

“Yeah, just showing him around,” Dean answered as he paid for Sam’s health food that he had bitch-faced Dean into buying. 

“God bless America, huh, friend?” the clerk said. 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “God’s not blessing anyone these days,” the angel muttered darkly. The clerk arched an eyebrow, startled at the response.

“He’s had a crazy trip. Delayed flights, lost his luggage, it’s been a day,” Sam jumped in. 

The clerk nodded, hoped Castiel the best, and off they went, driving straight until they got to Bobby’s place. 

~*~

They got to Bobby’s that night, and the trip seemed to have exhausted everyone; even Castiel jumped out of the car quicker than was necessary. 

When the old man wheeled his chair out to greet the hunters and angelic sidekick, Dean saw the lingering stare Bobby gave the Impala, and Sam’s slight shake of his head. For some reason this irritated the hell outta Dean, like they were working behind his back or something. 

Bobby noticed their exhaustion when they didn’t say much at dinner; he wheeled himself into his study, proclaiming that tomorrow would be the real work day. 

Dean announced his intention to get some sleep fairly early in the evening for a Winchester; Sam saw him down several shots of whiskey before heading upstairs, and he scowled in worry. He turned to say something to the others but found them engrossed in several old Bibles laid open across Bobby’s desk, Castiel showing the differences between the stories to Bobby and clarifying what _actually_ happened. 

Sam wanted to say something about his brother’s drinking, but a huge yawn erupted uncontrolled from him and Bobby banished him to his own room for the night. “Ya ain’t much use if you can’t keep yer peepers open,” he stated. 

Honestly, with so many things weighing on his soul Sam wasn’t sure he could sleep, but that didn’t prevent his mind from dropping him into a deep sleep as soon as his head hit his old, slightly musty-smelling pillow. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a dreamless sleep. 

~*~

Sam had only just entered the kitchen (shuffling around with eyes half open) when he discovered the old coffee pot Bobby had was already half-filled with the liquid gold, still warm and fresh. He looked around and paused, listening for a moment, but didn’t hear anyone else awake at that moment, so he shrugged it off. 

Coffee didn’t just make itself, and if it _did_ decide to do that today of all mornings, Sam wasn’t going to question it. He was exhausted from lack of sleep—nightmares, flashes of blinding golden light and piercing eyes the color of ice danced through his mind. Demon blood, Dean’s death at the hellhound’s claws, his brain had pulled out all the stops last night. 

The heavenly coffee smell was _so_ divine. If this was the latest tactic by Lucifer to get Sam to say yes, then he had to admit, it was a damn good one. 

He flopped into one of the chairs at the table, coffee swirling within the chipped mug in his hand, when Dean entered from the front door. 

Sam ran his fingers through his hair to get the strands out of his face, and looked at Dean almost suspiciously. “You look like crap, Dean,” Sam stated simply. 

His brother’s old t-shirt and jeans were ripped and stained by sweat and grease. His hair stuck to his tanned neck, he had greasy marks on his cheeks and forehead. His hands were black as well, despite the many times he wrung his hands off with the towel slung over his shoulder. 

Dean took the seat next to his brother and flopped into it, tired with a slight frown on his face. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t win any beauty contests either.” He simply motioned towards the coffee. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Sam said gratefully. Sam looked at Dean, his eyes narrowing slightly at the amount of grime Dean was covered in and the relatively early hour. “Did you even sleep?” Sam asked slowly.

Dean yawned. “I nightmared, if that’s what you mean.” 

Sam didn’t even bother to ask about what. Their whole lives were nothing but nightmare-fuel. That did explain why his older brother looked so worn down, though. And why he was drinking so much before bed. A preventative measure against night terrors and bad memories, it seemed. 

Dean moved to look into the study but turned back towards Sam, his brow creasing in sudden worry. “Sammy, where’s Cas?”

Sam blinked a couple times. “Huh. I don’t know. Haven’t seen him since last night.”

Dean’s eyebrows flew up, worry replaced with irritated panic. “Sam, come on man, we can’t just let Cas wander off on his own! What if something happens to--”

Dean’s voice was cut off by a series of loud thuds that seemed to thunder down the roof, followed by a second of silence and another, faint thud from under the window. Sam jumped up, exhaustion forgotten as he and Dean froze, waiting for an eminent attack.

A haggard-looking Castiel came through the front door into the kitchen, brushing off dust from his trench coat and pant legs. His tie was more crooked than usual, and his hair was even more of a spiked-up mess. The angel actually looked sleepy, which made Sam and Dean all the more startled.

He looked up to see the brothers staring at him in utter surprise, which made Castiel bristle in uncomfortable silence. 

“Good morning,” Castiel said stiffly. “Something wrong?”

“Uh, yeah. Any particular reason you’re covered in dirt?” Dean asked sternly, suspiciously.

Sam took in the rumpled clothing and asked “Cas, were you on the roof?” 

Castiel simply looked at them for several long seconds. “The stars are beautiful here as well,” he simply said, looking at Dean mostly. “The rural nature of this place allows for excellent star-gazing.”

“Did you just _jump_ off the roof?” Dean demanded sternly, voice low and gruff. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

“…I needed to get down,” Castiel said, not looking at Dean or Sam. He found his coat sleeve suddenly fascinating. “What is that smell?” he asked, sounding both curious and oddly awed by the scent of the roasted beans. He shuffled forward to an empty chair, and the guys shared vaguely concerned looks with each other. Castiel sat slumped over in the chair, and he looked so human it was downright disturbing to see. 

“It’s, uh, coffee,” Sam said, sounding concerned. 

“Yeah, um, do you want a cup?” Dean asked, playing the part of polite host since Bobby was still asleep.

“Please,” the angel asked warily. “How do you make yours, Dean?”

“Um, black. I don’t like anything in mine.”

“Then I’ll take it like that.”

Now they _knew_ something was up. Castiel had only wanted human food once, and that was only because of Famine’s exertions that made him hunger after hamburgers like a munchies-craving pothead. Never before or since did he have any real inclination in eating. A piece of food here or there he might have tried, but there never seemed to be any real pleasure to it. 

Now, as he took in a deep whiff of the coffee from the mug Dean placed before him, he let out a content sigh. He blew on it to cool it slightly, took a sip, and sent Sam a tired grin. 

“I see why you like this so much, Sam. It’s not unpleasant,” the angel said.

“Since when did you get a craving for coffee?” Dean asked. 

Castiel paused slightly mid-sip, but did not answer straightaway. Dean’s eyes grew wide at an idea, and he blurted it out without any real thought.

“Cas, you can’t get pregnant, right?”

Sam almost sputtered hot coffee through his nose (a pretty painful thing to experience first thing in the morning). Luckily, he managed to swallow it without choking or drowning. 

“Dean, what the hell?!” he asked, and his older brother shrugged. 

Castiel didn’t seem fazed at all by Dean’s question, merely curious as he continued to nurse the steaming drink. “No, I cannot. Why?”

“I think that was a pretty bad joke on Dean’s part,” Sam sputtered. “When women are pregnant, they get cravings for things they normally don’t eat.”

“Ah,” the angel said in understanding. “Well, the answer is still no. Angels can’t have children. Only God can create full-fledged angels.”

“What about Nephilim?” Sam asked, remembering the term from one of his late-night research sessions. 

Castiel nodded once. “Those are the exception. However, it is always a human female and an angel in a male vessel. They are half-breeds, not truly angel nor human.”

“As fascinating as this is,” Dean interjected, his unsubtle way of saying it was not interesting in the slightest. “I think the real question is, why are you drinking coffee, Cas?”

Cas fell into a sullen silence, prompting Sam’s follow-up question. 

“You were sleeping up there, weren’t you?” Sam asked. 

Castiel looked like he was going to deny it and argue; instead he sighed slightly. “It takes a lot of energy to keep this body going. Now that I’m no longer attached to Heaven, I have to conserve the energy I have and use it sparingly. Allowing this body to rest lets me expand what I have left,” Castiel explained quietly.

“So…you _were_ sleeping,” Dean pressed. 

“Essentially,” the angel said. He sounded just as disturbed by the idea as they were. 

“Well…dammit, Cas, next time just crash on the couch,” Dean said. “What if it got cold, or rained?”

It was then that Bobby rolled through the entrance to the kitchen from the hallway, a glare on his face that he shot at all three of them. “Any particular reasons you jackasses are makin’ so much racket?” he growled. “Who was on the roof?”

“Cas did it,” both Winchesters said in tandem. The brothers had no problem throwing Cas under the Bobby bus—human or angel, they were pretty sure he’d survive just fine.

Cas looked vaguely horrified and betrayed. “I wasn’t trying to wake you,” he said as an apology.

“It’s too early for stupid,” Bobby said, not even bothering to find out why an angel was prancing around on his roof like Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. He rolled to the counter to make a cup for himself. “So, what’s the plan, guys?” 

“Plan?” Sam asked. “Well, there is an Apocalypse on right now. Stopping that is probably the best thing to work on,” he said sarcastically. 

“Right. Well, while you work on that, can I borrow you for a bit, Cas?” Bobby asked. 

Castiel tilted his head in curiosity. “For what?”

Bobby scratched his forehead under his cap while taking a sip of coffee. “I got a lot of older books that I can’t readily read because they need translating or, as you colorfully pointed out last night, correcting. Mind helping me with that? Might even find something useful when it comes to dealing with Pestilence and Death.”

Castiel nodded, glad to have something to focus on besides his own dwindling powers and the looming uncertainty of the future.


	3. Losing Grace, Gaining a Brother

Castiel hadn’t meant to fall asleep on Bobby’s roof the previous night; he had been looking at the stars for several hours. The twinkling dots of light had been a comforting presence to the angel—those stars had been around since he had been and they always offered a point of stability. No matter how crazy his life was now, those stars were still the same, and would stay the same for eternity. 

Castiel needed that notion of stability, although his chest had ached when he realized there was a good chance he’d never get to fly amongst those stars again. What once was a torrent of celestial power was now nothing more than a trickle inside him. The idea of not being able to spread his wings and fly to any point on the Earth (or Space) was frustrating and nerve-wracking to the angel. 

He had come up to roof to ground himself last night, and had instead actually fallen asleep. The longer he was cut off from the Host, the further he Fell. Soon, too soon, he would be a powerless angel, human for all intents and purposes. Castiel feared that, when he did become human, the Winchesters would leave him behind to find another powerful ally. He didn’t even blame them for it—it was the best thing to do to stay alive with both Heaven and Hell chasing them nonstop.

Castiel closed his eyes and sighed. He was now tucked away on a shaded corner of the roof after Dean had made fried eggs and toast for everyone (of which Castiel ate and discovered he liked the dish). Several old tomes from Bobby’s library were piled around him, and a fresh cup of coffee in his hands. He enjoyed the bitter drink, even sound it soothing in some fashion.

Perhaps there was something in the old books that could help them fight the Apocalypse. He even hoped they might find the elusive spell that had made the Impala a human. If Dean and Sam had to pick someone to replace him with, he wanted it to be the car. She would be able to watch over them, as much as one could watch over the Winchesters.

For several hours, his blue eyes quickly skimmed the yellow pages for information, but so far he found nothing the Winchesters could use to bring the car back as a human, or anything that could slow the impending battle between Lucifer and Michael. He did, however, manage to fill one of the books with dozens of yellow Post-It notes with corrections and other bits of trivia he thought Bobby might appreciate. 

He felt exhausted; that made him more nervous than being trapped in the holy oil circle with Lucifer eyeing him up and down. The air was cool, a slight breeze ruffled his hair and coat, and the sky was cloudless blue. Castiel looked up at the sky, and thought about Heaven, fond memories twisting with terrible revelations. Would he ever seen home again. Did he really want to, after all that had happened?

His stomach tightened in an uncomfortable way, and the angel squirmed slightly in annoyance. He was completely caught by surprise when his stomach emitted a loud rumble, one so strong it seemed to vibrate his whole being. It reminded him of a whale singing in the depths of the ocean, or a thunderstorm announcing its presence over an open horizon.

“Be quiet,” he commanded his stomach, but the uncomfortable sensation was still there. He was about to go ask Dean what the problem was when a teasing voice spoke behind him.

“Whatcha talking to, Castiel? Got another furry friend there? You always did have a soft spot for fluffy companions. Hell, I even made you one!”

Castiel jumped up and whipped around to see a shorter man standing on the roof behind him, his auburn hair matched his honey eyes. The shadows of six enormous wings were cast on the roof yet were invisible behind the man’s back. The shadows folded in on themselves and disappeared as Cas narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 

“Are you referring to the mammal that has the body of an otter, the beak of a duck, has poisonous barbs on its legs, and lays eggs?”

Gabriel tsked his younger brother. “It’s called a _platypus_ , and it’s the coolest animal ever because _I_ made it for you. Not Dad, me! You’re welcome, by the way.”

Castiel huffed in annoyance; Gabriel opened his mouth to make a crack at his brother but his eyes went wide in surprise instead. “Castiel…when did this happen?!”

Cas closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh, knowing exactly what Gabriel was referencing. “I’ve been cut off from Heaven for a while now, Gabriel. I can barely feel the Host anymore. A single thread remains, and it’s fraying,” the angel said quietly. 

He looked down at his hands, remembering the first time it felt to have hands when he had possessed Jimmy. Such tiny things, just tiny bits of thin bone and muscle, but these things had created tools, cities, even space ships. Human hands had a magic that even Heaven didn’t have, and he had felt honored to have a pair of his own. 

Now he was trapped in this body, on this world, and was terrified by the idea of only having powerless hands at his command when once he was one of the most powerful creatures in Creation.

He clenched his fist, and shot a look at Gabriel. “What do you want, Gabriel?”

Gabriel strode forward and looked around at the dusty yard and stacks of cars surrounding the immediate area around the house. Castiel followed his gaze and an uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut. What would it be like if the rooftop was the highest he could be ever again? What if seeing the cars in the yard around them was the farthest he would be able to see? 

Gabriel noticed his brother’s dark expression, but didn’t comment on it. “Well, Castiel, you said some pretty hurtful things last time we met,” the archangel said pointedly. 

Cas crossed his arms, remembering when the Winchesters had managed to trap Gabriel in the ring of holy oil after the disaster of T.V. Land. He remembered the anger and betrayal he’d felt when the Trickster was revealed to be Gabriel. 

_“You ran away from Heaven. Abandoned it. Abandoned us. Why?” Castiel took a few steps forward, but stopped just short of the flaming circle. His eyes flashed dangerously._

_Gabriel frowned at the younger angel. “Get off your high horse, Castiel. I ran for the same reasons you did. Are. Heaven isn’t home anymore, not with all the fighting and the red-tape. You can’t blame me for leaving, after the fight between Lucifer and Michael. The negative energy was unbalancing my aura,” Gabriel said with a shrug._

_“This is not the time for your sub-par humor, Gabriel,” Cas snapped._

_“I might be a runaway, but I’m still an Archangel, Castiel. I’m more than strong enough to kick your ass, little brother,” Gabriel said hazardously, eyes flashing blue in anger._

_Castiel stared right back at Gabriel, not backing down. “You’re not the first archangel that’s threatened to, and yet I’m still here,” Castiel retorted._

Gabriel smirked, the memory replaying in his mind as well. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Really need to thank those Winchesters. They helped you work the stick out of your ass, and then taught you how to beat people to death with it! Beautiful.”

“They had nothing to do with it,” Castiel growled; he ignored Gabriel’s surprised laugh. “Why are you here, Gabriel?”

Gabriel’s smirk faltered for a moment. He looked down at his feet, even scuffed the roof with one. “Much as I hate to say it, Castiel, you were right. I did abandon home, and I abandoned you. What can I say? Seems I’m a coward.”

Castiel studied his older brother for a long moment. “As far as apologies go, that was a terrible attempt at one.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath for a redo.”

“I suppose it’ll do, then.”

The archangel trickster looked at the stack of books nearby, and arched an eyebrow at the younger angel. “You aren’t planning on finding some Grace-restoring spell in those old rags, are you?”

Castiel shook his head. “It’s not for me,” he said. He pointed down the roof, and Gabriel’s eyes followed the pointed finger until his eyes landed on the Winchesters’ Impala in the front yard. 

“Dean’s vehicular love interest? What about it?” Gabriel asked while he smirked. 

Cas rolled his eyes, and instead of explaining what had happened, he projected the memories to Gabriel. The archangel’s eyes grew wide when he saw everything that had happened, the day the car had become a human. 

“No way! You’re telling me that hunk of metal stabbed Zachariah like a shish-kabob?” he said, impressed. “Wow. Sorry I missed the show! Never really liked dear old Zach too much, a bit of a brown-noser, you know. But, gotta say, I’m still missing the whole point on trying to re-create this magic fluke?”

Castiel refused to look at Gabriel, but the older angel saw the thoughts in Castiel’s mind just as clearly as if he had spoken them. The archangel’s brow creased in concern. “Castiel, you can’t possibly tell me that after everything that’s happened, you really think that he’ll--?”

“He doesn’t sleep,” Castiel stated matter-of-factly, his eyes roamed the flat lands and stacks of cars that surrounded them; he watched the sunlight glint and gleam off of the various bits of glass and smudges of shining metal. “When he does, he only has night terrors. He used to have a humorous, good-natured streak to him, but he’s mostly sullen and quiet nowadays. His alcohol consumption has easily doubled, if not tripled since I pulled him from the Pit.”

He inhaled and let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Dean Winchester is breaking, Gabriel. After everything’s that happened to him and Sam, is it such a surprise? I fear he’s on the edge, and now that my power is almost completely gone, I’ll be forced to watch him plunge the world into flames, and not be able to do a single thing about it. If it means saving Sam from Lucifer’s grip, Dean will say yes to Michael.”

Gabriel made a frustrated noise and threw his hands up in the air. “Seriously? After everything, you’re telling me Dean’s this close to handing the steering wheel driving this bus over to our righteous asshat of an older brother? No, no! I’m not going to let that happen, no!”

Castiel finally turned to look at Gabriel, eyebrow cocked in a curious expression. “No? Since when do you care?”

Gabriel strode up to the slightly taller angel and started poking Castiel’s chest in time to his next words. “Care? Care! Dammit, Cas, I’ve always _cared_!” he said, using the Winchester’s nickname. “Would I have done everything I did if I didn’t? I didn’t want to see my brothers destroy themselves and everything else in this stupid fight! I tried to turn the Winchesters down a different path, but it ended up happening anyway, and that’s when I decided to no longer care. ‘Fine, blow up the planet assholes, hope you’re happy.’ 

“But _Dean Winchester_ reminded me that I had to stand up for what I believed in, even against my own family. Now you’re telling me he’s about to go to the dark side? I just got re-invested in this fight, Cas. I’m not backing out again.”

Gabriel paused, allowing Castiel to soak in the archangel’s words. He pointed to the stack of books. “You’re thinking that if you can re-create this spell, maybe Dean won’t give up? Maybe things aren’t so hopeless if there’s someone else on their side?”

“I believe it’s imperative now, more than ever. Sam and Dean need someone to watch their back, now that I’m essentially useless. Or, at least, if he does decide to give into the angels, she can physically stop him.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows arched up and a smirk ghosted across his face despite himself. “Very kinky, Cas.” He paced back and forth for a long moment, tapping his chin as he contemplated their current predicament. “Problem is, I’m not exactly an expert on human magics. I just create what I want and need with my Grace. Hm…someone who knows witchcraft…ah, got it!” he said, an excited look on his face.

Castiel looked shocked. “You know someone who will help?”

Gabriel waved towards his own face. “Hello, Archangel masquerading as a Trickster pagan god here! I know _everybody_! I’ll be back A.S.A.P. You wait right here, little brother!”

Gabriel disappeared just like that and Castiel rolled his eyes. “Right. Because it’s not like I can fly anywhere else at the moment.” 

Castiel’s stomach gave another painful lurch, and Gabriel’s voice rang throughout his mind. _You might want to have Dean make you a PB &J before you starve to death, little Cassie._


	4. Frenemies

The curtains over the windows blocked out all incoming light, keeping the interior permanently shrouded in darkness. The man in the dark suit had only just arrived, and he made his way to the impressive fireplace in the dark house (his grace in his steps suggested the darkness was no hindrance). With a snap of his fingers there was a blazing fire roaring away, and he clapped his hands together, as though to warm them. He took off his black jacket and draped it over the ornate chair before the fire, but pulled out a can of spray paint from a pocket. His eyes darted all over the house, but it was silent inside the worn-down mansion.

As he turned to leave the room with the spray can in his hand, he jumped back after seeing a shorter man leaning against the doorway. The intruder’s golden eyes flashed in the firelight.

“Ah! You scared the sin right out of me,” growled the man in an English accent. He put a hand over his chest, and glared at the intruder. “Almost made me have a heart attack.”

“Last I knew, Crowley, heart attacks weren’t a problem for demons,” Gabriel said with a smirk. 

“Loki,” the demon said, straightening up. “Long time no see. I was starting to think you’d finally found yourself on the wrong end of an evergreen,” Crowley said, eyeing the supposed pagan god. He sounded just a touch disappointed that it wasn’t so.

“Nope, still kicking,” Gabriel said, feeling a little weird to be called by his Trickster name after his identity had been discovered to the Winchesters. Hard to believe he was still simply Loki to some people after _that_ big reveal. 

“Your tastes seemed to have changed since last we met. You never really struck me as into the whole dark and dreary thing.” Gabriel said, motioning to the darkness surrounding them. With a snap of his fingers there were lights on everywhere, supplied by nonexistent electricity.

Crowley blinked several times in the sudden overflow of light, the can of spray paint clinking in his hand. Gabriel looked at it curiously, then walked forward and flopped into the chair, legs hanging over the side. 

“So, what’s with the paint?” Gabriel asked cheerfully. 

“Need it for protection,” Crowley said. Ignoring the Trickster, he walked to doorway and started spraying a devil’s trap on the floor. The paint itself was clear, though, and Gabriel realized the reason for the low light. He was using glow-in-the-dark spray-paint, and the low light would have made the paint easier to see. 

“From who?”

“Everyone. I’m on the lam,” Crowley said, continuing to spray down the circle and pentagram. 

Gabriel scoffed. “On the lam?”

“Yes, Loki. On the run. A fugitive. I’ve had to keep moving just to keep a few steps ahead of both the Host of Heaven and my own people. Turns out when you try to sabotage the Apocalypse, you get a warrant over your head,” the demon said bitterly.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “What Apocalypse?” he asked innocently. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, come on. I know you’re an all-powerful demigod and we’re just mere Earthlings, but surely you’ve heard through the grapevine there’s an Apocalypse going on?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Crowley, do you know how many gods and goddesses get the bright idea to start the End of Days on a monthly basis? Only to give up after a few days or weeks because they get bored? Pu-lease. This little…pissing contest…will blow over soon, you’ll see.”

Crowley chuckled. “Wish I had you’re optimism, I do. But it looks like Heaven and Hell are in this for the long haul. No one’s safe from either side anymore.”

“Ah,” Gabriel said. He snapped his fingers, and the devil’s trap Crowley was working on finished itself. Devil’s traps and angel sigils appeared on all the walls throughout the building instantly. He had to tinker with the sigils so they wouldn’t affect him too much, so hopefully Crowley wouldn’t inspect them too carefully, lest he notice the differences.

“Thanks,” the demon said, and walked back over in front of the chair Gabriel was lounging in. The demon snapped up a matching ornate chair to sit in across from the archangel, and snapped a glass of whiskey in his hand. “So, I’m assuming you’re not here for a social call?” Crowley said civilly. 

Gabriel grinned, and whipped up his own glass of honeyed-mead. The Asgardians knew how to make a decent drink that could even get an archangel pleasantly buzzed. He looked at Crowley, at the demon’s true face under the human he was wearing, but the revulsion he was supposed to feel towards something so evil and un-Heavenly was no longer there. Hadn’t been in a very long time.

“Not exactly,” the archangel admitted. “I need to tap your greatest resource, actually,” Gabriel said, tapping his temple.

Crowley looked surprised and pleased. “And…what makes you think I’ll help you?” he asked with an evil smirk.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! You’re not still mad about that last trick, are you?”

“I don’t care if you feel the urge the play your pranks, Loki, but my deals and my dogs are strictly off limits! This is Hell, and we have a reputation to keep up!” the King of the Crossroads roared. Despite being on the run from Hell, he still considered himself a (very important) part of it.

“Oh, come on! It was hilarious and you know it.”

“The Boll-Wiseau deal was going flawlessly. Two young directors sold their souls for their movies to become famous throughout the world. You mucked it all up!” Crowley snapped.

Gabriel shrugged, grinning the whole time. “It’s not my fault you didn’t specify whether they’d be known for famously _good_ movies or famously _bad_ ones. And come on! Those movies are so awful, Crow, you should suggest watching them as torments for souls in the Pit.”

Crowley glared at him, and then drank his drink in silent indignation. 

Gabriel downed his mead in one go, smacking his lips in satisfaction before the cup disappeared. “Fine, you stick-in-the-mud. No more pranks when it comes to deals.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at him. “Promise?”

“Odin’s honor,” Gabriel said, holding up his hand. 

“Fine. So, what do you want, you pain-in-the-arse?”

Gabriel sighed, a little embarrassed but unsure who else he could talk to. “I’ve got a couple mortals who could really use a little ass-whooping, but my magic isn’t quite what’s needed. I need information about a particular kind of spell, and word has it you might have exactly what I need,” Gabriel said vaguely. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow and gave the Trickster an appraising look. “These mortals of yours…they wouldn’t happen to be brothers, would they? One is bow-legged and thinks he’s the cat’s meow and the other is the size of Goliath?” Crowley asked, holding his hand over his head as high as possible, but not even coming close to Sam’s height. 

Gabriel looked surprised. “You know the Winchesters? And you’re not _dead_?”

“‘Course I do! Those two idiots like to summon Crossroads demons and then kill ‘em in a temper tantrum when they don’t get what they want. Honestly, I’m running out of employees!” Crowley snapped. “So, whenever Moose and Squirrel makes a summons, I have to take it myself. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a crossroads demon left in half the U.S.”

“Moose and Squirrel?” Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Gigantor is another favorite of mine,” Crowley added.

“He _would_ give Thor a complex,” Gabriel whispered in a conspirator’s whisper, and Crowley actually laughed. 

“Well, like I said, I haven’t spoken with them recently. Not that I’d have anything to do with those two bumbling morons. Couldn’t even kill the Devil without failing miserably. Now I’m on the run because they couldn’t be bothered to figure out if the Colt would actually work on the Devil before they actually tried it!”

Luckily, Gabriel’s open-mouthed reaction of shock worked for Loki as well. “They tried to kill Lucifer with the _Colt_?” he choked out in surprise. “That’s why you’re on the run?” he asked in a quiet, dangerous tone.

“Who would’ve thought it, if you try to off the God of your race, people get pissed,” Crowley muttered darkly.

Gabriel’s hand curled into a fist unconsciously, and he had to fight the part of himself (the righteous, archangel part he had buried away eons ago) that wanted to do nothing more than smite this uppity demon for even _contemplating_ trying to kill his brother. Lucifer might have been a destructive and evil son of a bitch, but that didn’t give anyone, especially a _demon_ , the right to try and kill him. 

Unconsciously, his angel blade peeked out from his jacket sleeve, ready to plunge into the Crossroads demon’s chest.

Crowley, noticing the Trickster’s shaking hand and faraway look of anger, sat up a little straighter. “Sorry, did I take Odin’s name in vain, again?” he asked smoothly, breaking Gabriel from his reverie. The archangel had to remind himself that he was here on business; kicking Crowley’s smug-ass wouldn’t do anything about his mission from the Winchesters, or his own confused feelings about his Heavenly family. 

“Just remembering a particularly arrogant ass I need to teach a lesson too,” Gabriel said quietly, and Crowley nodded. 

“Well, if I were capable, I’d almost feel sorry for anyone catching your wrath,” the demon said with a wink. This reminded Gabriel that he actually _liked_ the demon king, and hurting one of the few allies he could count on in this war was a very bad idea. He put the angel blade away, sparing the demon for another day.

Crowley was completely oblivious that he had almost made an archangel smite him on the spot. “So, you wanted to know about a spell? What spell? And why are you asking after the Winchesters?”

Gabriel tucked away the last bit of his anger and confusion under his usual laid-back demeanor. “I’m looking for a spell that can animate an inanimate object. But not just bring it to life. I mean animate the spirit of the object. Make it a person. Have any ideas for that?”

Crowley tilted his head, studying the Trickster. “That’s awfully specific, Loki. What makes you think I’d know anything?”

“I’ve heard through the grapevine you were a witch’s son,” he said nonchalantly. He’d plucked that particular piece of information from the demon’s dark mind ages ago, but he hoped Crowley didn’t question it too much.

Crowley seemed to think for several seconds who could have known that information, but gave up after a while. There was no telling with demons—they, as a species, were horrible with gossip. Practically thrived on it. 

“So, I figured coming straight to you was my best bet in finding anything.”

Crowley nodded, thinking as he sipped his drink. “That’s old magic, and powerful too. And you want this spell for what reason?”

Gabriel grinned dangerously. “Those two chuckleheads have gotten in my way enough times by now. So, a little pay-back is in order.”

“Those two idiots were _this_ close to shoving a pine stick through your middle, weren’t they?” Crowley asked with a lazy smirk on his face. 

Images of Castiel, with his blue eyes dull and downcast, looking lost and helpless, flashed through Gabriel’s mind. It stirred emotions in him he hadn’t felt in eons. 

“Something like that,” the Trickster affirmed. “But I want to create a trick that’s permanent, not just one of my illusions. What would the dear Winchesters do if, say…their car suddenly a very protective human? So protective that they couldn’t even take a piss without it fussing over them. I mean, since ‘saving people’ is their shtick and all, it might be funny to see the tides turned like that.” 

Vindictive pagan was exactly the persona needed to keep Crowley from getting any ideas about why he really needed such a spell, but even to his ears the idea sounded a little lackluster.

Crowley tapped his chin, thinking silently to himself for a few moments. More than likely he was weighing the pros and cons of helping a pagan and how he could use it as leverage to cover his own ass. 

“Well, there is one particular spell that could turn the car into a human,” Crowley said. “The duration of the spell would depend on who was casting it, and how much of a personal connection there is between victim and object. Considering the unhealthy obsession the eldest Winchester has to that hunk of metal, it would more than likely be permanent.”

“That sounds perfect, Crow!” 

“Don’t call me that,” Crowley said with a furrowed brow. “Now, are we going to talk about the _real_ reason you want this spell, or no?”

Gabriel tried not to look too surprised, but from the smug way Crowley smiled at him, he must have been doing a terrible job of it. He responded with a very elegant “Huh?”

“Don’t treat me like I was just dragged to Hell yesterday, darling,” Crowley said, using his most irritating nickname on the equally irritating pagan. “We both know exactly why you want such a spell.”

“We do?” Even though Crowley was a pretty powerful demon, Gabriel was still an archangel, more than powerful enough to smite the demon with barely a thought. Yet the idea that he might have to do such was vaguely horrifying. For whatever reason, he liked the sick bastard, might even call him a friend. They’d been getting on each other’s nerves for decades, maybe even a century or so by now—Gabriel hoped Crowley wasn’t so cunning he’d figured out Gabriel’s true identity; he didn’t want to kill the demon to keep his secret safe.

“Same reason I’m underground now. Much as we hate them, those moronic and disturbingly co-dependent Winchesters are the only thing staying between us and the Apocalypse. Believe me, I’d love to wring their necks, but it’s because of them the war isn’t on yet. I’m guessing you’re involvement with the Winchesters wouldn’t sit well with the other pagans?”

“Not in the least,” Gabriel said honestly, sighing in relief that his most precious secret was still safe. “They’d probably try to sacrifice me to the flying assholes as _appeasement_.” 

Crowley whistled. “Well, seems like we’re in the same boat, Loki. So, you want to turn their car in a protective force, since you can’t interfere in the open?”

“Bingo. And if it’s spell work, who would point the finger at me?” Gabriel said. 

Crowley nodded. “Right. Well, I’ve got a potential spell in mind, but I’m going to need compensation.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Seriously, Crowley? You don’t count stopping the Apocalypse as pro bono work?”

“Last time I did something like that, I ended up losing a very valuable weapon and got my ass thrown from the frying pan to the fire!” Crowley snapped hotly. “I may be currently out of the office, but the King of the Crossroads is always open for business,” he said, gaining back his composure. “So, let’s talk.”

Gabriel held up a hand, ready to snap, a dark grin on his face. “I could promise not to snap you into the middle of the ocean,” he offered. “Lots of salt in the ocean.”

“I don’t negotiate with death threats,” Crowley said, not impressed or intimidated with Gabriel’s threat. The Trickster pouted and lowered his hand. He tried to figure out what a demon, one was able to create anything he wanted, would need or desire. He looked around the previously abandoned and worn down house that surrounded them, and smirked. 

“How about protection?” Gabriel offered. Crowley raised an eyebrow in interest. 

“Protection?”

“Yep. See, I’ve been around the block a few times now, and I’ve collected houses all over the world. And all of them are demon-proof, ghost-proof, and angel-proof. A little alteration would allow only you safely inside. You can wait out the Apocalypse there, drinking Craig and watching whatever reality T.V. gets you off.”

“You’re offering me lodging in one of your personal homes?” Crowley tried to come off as nonchalant, but it was obvious he was beyond surprised by the gesture.

“It’s not like I’m using them. How does Hawaii sound? Or maybe you’re interested in Australia? Since the continent is crawling with every evil creature in creation, I’m sure you’ll feel right at home.” 

“That’s a generous offer, Loki,” Crowley said, looking thoughtful. He gave the Trickster a once over, probably trying to determine if the pagan was tricking him or not. “I’d be quite insane to not take it, wouldn’t I?”

Gabriel looked at the demon smugly. “You’re always looking out for number one, and I need you alive. If we’re going to help the Winchester from behind the scenes, we’re going to need to keep our asses safe for the long haul.”

Crowley grinned. “You’re terms are acceptable, Loki. Just let me gather a few things, and the three of us will be on our way.”

Crowley magicked away his drink and stood up, quickly gathering up his jacket and the bag he had brought with him. Gabriel stood up also, but furrowed his face in a questioning way. “What you mean, ‘three of us’?”

Gabriel took a few steps forward to follow Crowley, when a snort of hot, stinking breath hit him in the face. 

There was nothing be front of him. 

“Oh, come on, you’re bringing _Fido_?” Gabriel whined, carefully inching around the spot where the monstrous hellhound was probably growling at him. 

Crowley grinned. “Never go anywhere without Growly. Though he’d be less than useless against a pissed-off archangel.”

_Good to know I have nothing to really worry about_ , Gabriel thought. Crowley, now wearing his black jacket, looked ready to go. 

Gabriel was about to reach out and touch the demon when he paused, and gave Crowley a suspicious look. “Wait a second, is this a deal?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Protection and lodging in exchange for a spell for the accident-prone Winchesters. Sounds like a deal to me.”

“So…we aren’t gonna have to kiss, are we?” Gabriel asked, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“Course not.” After a thought, Crowley wiggled his eyebrows, mirroring the gesture the archangel made whenever making a salacious comment. “Lest you want to?”

“I’m already regretting this situation,” Gabriel said as he grabbed Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley’s hand landed on an invisible surface that was almost head-level, and they disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in those directors, I suggest you watch Nostalgia Critic's videos for "The Room," "Alone in the Dark," and "BloodRayne" on either youtube or thatguywiththeglasses.com. Tommy Wiseau and Uwel Boll are _awful_ , there's no way people make movies that bad without some sort of Tricksterly interference!


	5. Did it Work?

“Now, Bobby, you and I have _got_ to have a talk about the amount of dust up here!”

Bobby stopped leafing through another journal and glared at the young hunter. Dean was standing on the back of his worn-out couch, taking an equally old feather duster to the top of a book shelf.

“Oh, well let me just get off my lazy ass and help you with that,” Bobby’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Sorry I haven’t maintained the place since my legs became as useless as tits on a bull.”

Dean put his hands on his hips, glaring down at Bobby. “This dust is years old, man! I think I just destroyed a dust-bunny version of New York City up here.”

Bobby looked at Sam, worry lines creasing his forehead. “Kid, I think you need to get the holy water. I’ll go get the iron chains.”

Sam actually let out a little chuckle from his spot on the other side of the couch as his brother continued to mutter about the lack of cleanliness in Bobby’s house. He tapped away on the laptop on his lap as he continued to search around the internet for news of major disease outbreaks or deaths—Pestilence and Death’s calling cards. “No, trust me, that’s Dean all right. He’s a real neat-freak, he just doesn’t show it very often.”

“Sam, get off your lazy ass and help me,” Dean growled. “I think there might be a dust-bunny army making its way towards me, and if we tag team this thing we might get out alive--” 

“Since when did dust mutate into a living organism?” Castiel asked curiously from the kitchen table, eating a crust-less peanut butter & jelly sandwich Dean had made him. He took another bite and slowly chewed it, enjoying the strange sensation of sticky, nutty peanut butter and the sweetness of the grape jelly. It was a different experience than when he was scarfing down hamburgers because of Famine’s magic. This time he didn’t feel like he’d die if he stopped chewing.

“Dean’s being over-dramatic,” Sam explained. “It’s a kind of joke.”

Castiel seemed to think this over when there was a sudden, exploding cloud of smoke in the kitchen behind him, which made everyone jump in surprise. When a familiar form sprang froth from the smoke, déjà vu hit Sam and Dean like a speeding train.

“Gabriel?!” They both said, looking at each and frantically trying to figure out why the Trickster Archangel was in Bobby’s kitchen. 

“Howdy boys,” the archangel said cheerfully. “Miss me?”

Dean looked at Castiel with suspicion when the angel continued to eat the last few bites of his sandwich without reacting at all to Gabriel’s dramatic entrance. “Cas?” Dean asked, “What’s going on?”

Bobby blinked and his face hardened in recognition as he rolled his chair to the front of the desk. “The boys mentioned you. Gabriel, the flying dick hiding as a Trickster, right?”

Gabriel didn’t seem to be bothered by the insult. “Charming as always, eh, Bobby? Last time we met you tried to shove a stick through my chest, remember?”

“Just doin’ my job. Tricksters trick, hunters hunt. Nothin’ personal.”

Gabriel laughed. “Still as scruffy as always. A bit plain, don’t you think?” he said, motioning towards Bobby. With a snap Gabriel grinned, and Castiel tilted his head in confusion. 

“Gabriel, what did you do to his chair?”

Bobby looked down and saw the wheels of his chair had been replaced with shining metal hubcaps that continued spinning around even though he wasn’t moving. “You--!”

“Everything’s better with Spinners, don’t you agree?” Gabriel said with a mischievous smile on his face. 

Bobby’s face became beet red with anger. “You’re an ass,” he spat.

Gabriel looked shocked. “Me? No, _you’re_ the ass. That’s why you’re the one that got pranked. ‘Cause that’s my M.O.”

“What the HELL is going on?!” Dean roared, looking ready to strangle the archangel.

“Gabriel is here to help us,” Cas stated.

“No,” Gabriel corrected, “I’m here to help _you_ , little brother. And you happen to want to help _them_. It’s a cyclical thing.”

“With what, pray tell? Because I’m good on my asshole quota for today,” Sam said, arms crossed over his chest.

“He’s offered to help us with the Impala situation,” Cas explained quickly. 

Bobby’s eyes went wide. “The Impa—the _Impala_ situation? Cas, no offense, but for all the things you could’ve wrangled your brother in here to do, you picked something mighty low on the list, don’t you think?”

“Castiel told me about what happened with your car, Dean. Turns out that thing is still a badass piece of engineering even on two legs, huh?” Gabriel asked.

Dean scowled, eyes darting from Castiel to Gabriel, and folded his arms over his chest. “What’s it to you?”

“Well…let’s just say I’ve got an interest in keeping you idiots alive, and she managed to do a decent job on it. So, I’ve brought in a little outside help to recreate the spell. But this time it’ll be bigger, better, more powerful! Zach, smug little bastard he became, won’t even know what hit him,” Gabriel said with a dangerous grin. 

“And what’s the price for this Heavenly intervention?” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at the Trickster.

“I’m counting stopping the Apocalypse as pro bono work, unlike some,” Gabriel said, muttering the last part to himself. 

“And who is this outside help?” Castiel asked with suspicion.

“Hello boys. Been a while,” said a voice the same time the smell of expensive cologne and sulfur filled the small kitchen. The hunters and the angels turned around to see Crowley standing behind them in the doorway to the attached study. Though his dark brown eyes ran over the familiar faces of Castiel, Sam, Dean, and Gabriel (Loki), the demon’s eyes landed on the hunter in the wheelchair, and a charming smile broke across his face. 

Bobby felt like a he’d just attracted the attention of a hungry shark.

“What a handsome specimen!” Crowley said, looking Bobby straight in the eyes before giving him a wink. “Name’s Crowley. What’s yours?”

The hunter’s lips pursed into a straight line and glared at the newcomer. He smelled the sulfurous undertone and snarled. “You son-of-a-bitch,” he snapped, unable to play nice with the demon.

“Charming. Nice to meet you, Mr. ‘You son-of-a-bitch.’” the demon said, the corners of his eyes crinkled in sarcastic humor. 

Bobby’s face remained impassive, even as he reached behind his chair and whipped out a sawed-off shotgun from a hidden pouch in the back. He pumped it once and had it aimed at the demon’s chest before anyone could say a word otherwise. 

The demon looked smug and taunted the hunter with another smile. “Isn’t it polite to take someone to dinner first before pulling your gun out?” the demon said with a wicked smile. 

Bobby didn’t even give Crowley the satisfaction of acknowledging the innuendo, not even a slight blush or confused blink. “There better be a damn good reason the demon responsible for sending two of my friends to early graves is standing in my living room,” the older hunter snarled, eyes darting to Gabriel. 

“Why are you here?” Dean demanded of the demon. 

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the hunters. “I’m here on his behalf,” he said, motioning towards Gabriel. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. You two are too stupid and irresponsible to conduct any sort of deal around!”

“Us? You’re the one who gave us the Colt and sent us on our merry way,” Sam snapped, voice rising in anger. “Two good people died because of that suicide run!”

“I was working under the same information you were. How was I supposed to know the bloody Colt would be useless?” Crowley yelled back. 

“ENOUGH!” Gabriel roared, and the two hunters and one demon immediately cowed before the shortest man in the room, except Bobby. Honey eyes flashed in annoyance at him, and after a moment debating with himself, the hunter lowered the weapon.

Sam and Dean still shot Crowley venomous looks, but Crowley looked more surprised at Gabriel. “No point in getting loud, Loki,” the demon said, trying to stay on the pagan’s good side.

_Loki?_ Dean mouthed to Sam. 

Sam glanced at Gabriel. _Trickster, remember?_ He mouthed back. 

“Anyway,” Crowley said, getting back to business. “I’m here to assist in this spell you requested. Well, not you per say, but for Loki who requested on your behalf. Your car became a human, and you want to change it back again?”

Dean and Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah,” Sam said after a hesitant moment. “A witch hit Dean with a spell, but nothing happened. I killed her, and when we left her house the car was a woman.”

Crowley snorted his disbelief. “For whatever reasons, you’ve got the weirdest luck, Winchesters. That was a fluke to behold all flukes.” 

“Figured as much,” Dean said simply, arms crossed in front of him defensively. 

“I’ll be back in a second. Need a few supplies. Don’t get killed while I’m out,” Crowley said before he disappeared.

Sam and Dean immediately turned on the archangel. “You went to _Crowley_?” Dean demanded. 

Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not well-versed in all black magic, so I asked for a professional opinion.”

“Your professional opinion comes from a _demon_?” Sam asked incredulously.

“I take ‘em where I can get ‘em, Samsquatch,” Gabriel said easily. 

“Any particular reason you brought that demon here, of all places?” Bobby demanded, gun still sitting across his lap and ready in case he changed his mind about shooting Crowley.

Gabriel looked at Castiel, whose eyes darted away, unsure and sad. “Because it’s necessary. I know you don’t like me, I don’t even really care about that. This war won’t end unless Michael or Lucifer gets his way, and I don’t want that. I’m on your side, guys. Sometimes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, remember? Besides, Crowley isn’t that bad. An annoying stick in the mud with a selfish streak a planet wide, yes, but he pulls through in a pinch. You chuckleheads need all the help you can get, right? Well, he’s helping, so make sure to say thank you.”

All three hunters looked outraged at this, but before another argument broke out Crowley reappeared. This time, he was holding a large bronze bowl in his hands. 

“Thinking about taking this little party outside. Bit cramped in here,” he said with a shrug. The demon disappeared silently, and everyone wandered outside onto the front porch in order to watch Crowley place the bowl on the floor before them. 

The Impala sat in the driveway only fifty feet away, the mid-afternoon sun shining down from overhead, making the chrome glean and the paint shine like brand-new. Dean hadn’t forgotten his promise to give the car a thorough detailing after she saved their asses from the angels last time. Dean and Sam looked at each other, then at the car, unsure feelings in their chest. Would this actually work? Or were they just wasting time on this endeavor? And why did they have nervous butterflies flittering around in their stomachs?

Humming to himself, Crowley squatted down and started pulling from of his jacket pockets various little bunches of herbs, small bits of bone, and several brightly-colored stones that seemed to glow despite the bright sunshine. Sam didn’t recognize any of the things in the bowl—they could have been from overseas.

The demon took one of the bones (wing bones from a bird, Sam decided) and crushed them into a fine dust in his hands. He sprinkled the dust into the bowl before he straightened up. As he pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket packet to wipe off his hands, the demon explained. 

“Kind of funny, really,” Crowley said. “Poor spell work and your unhealthy love of your car saved your asses.”

He looked at Dean, then at the bowl of ingredients. “I’m pretty sure that young witch hit you with a Golem spell, but was trying to cast a Guardian spell on you.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” Bobby asked, curious despite himself. 

Crowley chuckled darkly. “It’s for _that_ particular reason that you two idiots are still alive. These are spells that were used in the Old Country in the Dark Ages. Can’t really find the ingredients over here, across the pond. Not easily, anyway. And unless you are a practiced witch, the ingredients and incantations for the two spells are very similar—mix-ups occur, just as Robert demonstrated.”

“Leave me out of this, Professor,” Bobby muttered darkly. 

“What’s the difference between them?” Dean asked curiously, though he tried to sound nonchalant.

“The difference, Dean, is that if this witch had hit you with a Guardian spell, you and Sam would probably be dead,” Crowley said simply. “Guardian spells are used to brainwash your enemy into becoming your protector. Since she hit you, Dean, she was trying to get you to kill Sam so she could get away. If you survived, she’d have you for a loyal bodyguard until you died. Imagine the chaos she could’ve created if she had a Winchester watching her back.”

Dean could imagine, and it made him visibly shudder for a second until protective anger hit him. “She wanted me to kill Sam? That’s insane! We literally stumbled across her house, there’s no way she had the time to set up this spell.”

“I don’t think so, Dean. Didn’t you say before it felt like a trap?” Sam responded, thinking back to the trail of evidence that had lead them right into that witch’s living room—and right into the attack. 

“Holy crap, Sam,” Dean said, remembering. He shot a look at Crowley. “Why didn’t I go Manchurian Candidate on him, then?”

“She screwed up,” Crowley said with a shrug. “Like I said, these spells are easy to mix-up. She hit you with, I believe, a Golem spell.”

“I’ve been reading up on those,” Sam admitted. “When I couldn’t find anything when looking for guardian spells,” he said, giving Bobby a sheepish grin. “They’re supposed to animate an object, but are incredibly difficult to pull off, right?” 

“Can’t have just anyone bringing random objects to life willy-nilly, too much chaos!” Crowley agreed. “An object that is close to the person is animated to protect them. Depending on how strong the connection is, the object may act more or less human. Since you have an unhealthy attraction to your car, and you think of it as a person, a person it became to cover your arse,” Crowley finished. 

Dean and Sam looked at each other, then at Gabriel. The angel, eating from a box of Milk Duds, shrugged at them. “Don’t look at me, this isn’t my forte.”

“So, now what?” Sam asked.

“Well, what I’m going to do is do a proper golem spell. She’ll be powerful without human weakness or necessity. What you’re looking for, right?”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, unsure. Did they need the help? Absolutely. But an emotionless hunk of metal without the sass or silver eyes? Maybe it would just be better to let bygones be bygones. 

“You two are impossible to please,” Crowley growled. “Just roll up your sleeves,” he ordered with an eye roll, a little cheekier than necessary. 

The brothers looked at each other with a wary eye. “Come again?” Dean asked.

“What, you’re going to get nervous over a little blood spillage? You two are wimps!” the angel said, making a disappointed face at the wary Winchesters.

“Excuse them for being cautious in their blood-letting,” Bobby snapped, but he saw the hope in the boys eyes, and softened his tone. “Not like we’ve been tricked before or anything.” 

The brothers shared a cautious glance, but the demon could only do so much harm without being smote by the archangel/seraph, or at least being pumped full of rock salt by Bobby. They rolled up their long-sleeves slowly, revealing their forearms.

A large knife, the blade bent like a lightning bolt, was pulled from the inside of Crowley’s jacket pocket as nonchalantly as someone pulled out a business card. “Right, bit of a sting,” the demon said easily, and he dragged the tip of the knife over Dean’s arm, causing a river of blood to drip into the bowl underneath. Dean clenched his teeth, but he still ended up swearing colorfully, which made Castiel glare daggers at the demon.

With a wave of Crowley’s hand the blade was clean and gleaning. Sam turned his head, but still groaned loudly as the knife sliced his skin. The sound made the archangel’s blood run cool for a few seconds as the blood joined the other ingredients in the bowl.

Castiel watched Crowley closely, and Bobby’s hands tightened on his gun, just in case anything when awry. He did turn his head when the demon winked at him, rolling his eyes. 

“The witch didn’t need our blood!” Dean snapped the accusation, about to tear off a stripe of his t-shirt to make as a tourniquet, but when he went to wrap his arm the flesh was completely healed, without a mark. Sam’s was the same way. Both hunters looked at Gabriel, but the Trickster shrugged. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to let a pagan drag me around just to do half-assed spell work. You’re going to get more bang for your buck this way, ingrate. Shut it,” the demon threatened. 

He bent down and used up the knife’s tip to stir the various plants and blood in the bowl. The knife vanished, and Crowley started muttering a strange language, one Dean didn’t recognize, and he knew both Latin and Enochian.

Crowley’s voice was loud and demanding, and he made a flickering motion at the two Winchesters as his incantation ended. Silence reigned, causing Sam and Dean to look at each other and Gabriel with slight worry and disappointment. 

Crowley snapped the bowl away and turned to face them. A wide grin graced his devilish features, and he was looking very smug. 

“Um…did it work?” Sam asked, unsure. Dean looked around, not seeing any difference. 

Crowley shrugged, but he was still grinning. “I dunno. You tell me,” He said while waving his hand towards the car parked in the dusty driveway. Several pairs of eyes landed on the car and watched it intently. 

The driver side door of the Impala slowly swung open. As a figure got out of the car and looked at them, silver eyes flashed at the slack-jawed hunters. 

“Boys!” Baby said as she slammed the door of the car. It disappeared into thin air, leaving her standing alone in the driveway.


	6. Back in Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPN season 10 starts tonight....I am terrified.   
> Honestly, I'm only watching for morbid curiosity at this point. Anyways, onwards to the fic!

She looked exactly the same as before. As tall as Dean, with broad shoulders, long arms and legs, flat chest, and lean with muscle. Same black clothing, same leather jacket the color of the seats, same short pixie haircut (black hair with a touch of gray at the roots), same whitish-silver scars on her face and chest. Those silver chrome eyes were just as piercing as the first day they saw her like this, but instead of being alien, they were a comforting sight for sore eyes.

The Winchesters stood frozen in surprise for several seconds, unable to really believe she was there, in front of them. She strode forward slowly, apparently getting used to being vertical again, and the boys flew down the steps to meet her halfway. 

“How do we know this isn’t some trick you cooked up?” Dean asked, throwing a glare at the Trickster still on the porch. Before Gabriel could retaliate, Baby closed the gap between them and gave Dean a good smack on the shoulder.

“I’m not a trick, Dean Winchester!” Baby said as Dean massaged his arm. 

“We can’t be totally sure. What’s the first thing you did when you became a human the first time?” Dean quizzed. 

Baby rolled her eyes. “Smacked you two for being ridiculous.”

“That’s kind of a freebie,” Sam said, an apologetic smile on his face when she glared at him in surprise. “What did you threaten to do to Lucifer if he bothered me again?”

“Road haul him until he was nothing but a bloody smear on an abandoned stretch of asphalt,” Baby said nonchalantly. Crowley, Gabriel, and Bobby all looked at each other with eyes wide. 

“She can’t actually do that…can she?” Gabriel asked the demon, plainly curious.

“No, but I can certainly appreciate the enthusiasm,” Crowley replied.

“Damn, it’s good to see you again!” Bobby said with a grin. When the archangel and demon stared at him, he shrugged. “I always liked her.”

“All of you are welcome for this little miracle, by the way,” Crowley said, and when several pairs of eyes glared at him, he threw up his hands in defeat. “No need to say ‘thank you’ or anything.” 

Baby looked at Sam and Dean, and without warning grabbed their shirts and dragged them into a hug strong enough to almost crack ribs. “I’m so sorry about Jo and Ellen,” she said quietly, holding them. “So, so sorry, boys, for everything.” She broke away from the hug and smacked them on the arm, a furious look on her face. “Don’t do anything stupid like that again!” 

Gabriel held up his hands. “I had nothing to do with that,” he said, pointing at her. 

“Okay, okay, knock it off!” Dean protested. He motioned for the car and his younger brother to get back to the porch, and followed after, an unconscious grin on his face even as he massaged the upper arm. 

It took her a minute to figure out how the stairs worked, but once she was up she saw Bobby and grinned at him. “Still running, I see,” she said, then looked at his wheelchair. “I like the attachments, Bobby. Dean, can I get some of those, too?” she asked as she pointed at the spinners.

“Absolutely not,” Dean said. “I’m not douching you up!” 

“Don’t worry, I’m getting rid of them at _once_ , aren’t I?” Bobby said, a demanding scowl aimed at Gabriel. The archangel sighed and snapped his fingers, making the modified hubcaps disappear. 

“You’re the most boring man alive, Bobby,” Gabriel whined. 

“And I wanna keep it that way,” the hunter said. He turned around and led the way inside, though he barred the doorway when Crowley tried to enter. “Not you. Stay outside,” he said, and slammed the door in the demon’s face. Bobby allowed himself a smug smile before he turned around, only to see Crowley standing in the kitchen, frowning at him. 

“I told you not to come in my house!” Bobby snarled. 

“I’m not some Hollywood vampire, Robert,” Crowley said in a disapproving tone. “Nor am I a disobedient hellhound pup to be ordered around.”

Before Bobby could retaliate Sam’s lighthearted tone caught his attention. He looked to see Dean and Sam patting the human Impala on the shoulders, looking excited and happy.

“I can’t believe it!” Sam said once they were safely inside. His face was lit up with absolute delight. “The spell worked!” he said, looking at Bobby and the demon. Bobby sighed in annoyance and wheeled his way into his study for the whiskey he had stashed in there.

Crowley scoffed when he looked at Sam. “Hello, King of the Crossroads. Was there ever any doubt?”

Gabriel looked at the hunters and the human Impala, then at Crowley’s smug face. “Not bad,” the Trickster said, easily the highest compliment he offered. “I like her.” 

“Who are they?” Baby asked, looking at Gabriel and Crowley. 

“The name’s Crowley. Charmed, I assure you.” Crowley bowed. 

Baby screwed her face up, as realizing something. She looked at Dean while pointing at the demon. “Not Crowley, as in ‘Mr. Crowley what went on in your head; Mr. Crowley did you talk to the dead’?” she asked. 

It took Dean several seconds to figure out what she was talking about. “Oh, uh, nah, I don’t think this Crowley and the dude Ozzy sang about are the same guy.” Dean paused, and looked at the demon curiously. “Are you?”

Crowley stood a little taller and smirked. “I have a lot of well-known clients. Mr. Osbourne is a friend of mine. Of course, he exaggerated a few things. If I had actually ‘waited on Satan’s door’, I wouldn’t be standing in this,” he motioned around Bobby’s house, “décor-riddled nightmare in the ass end of nowhere with you people, would I?”

“You’re a demon, aren’t you?” Baby asked quietly; she subtly moved so that she was in front of the boys, ready to protect them if Crowley tried anything.

Crowley grinned. “Got some wit for a muscle car. You have nothing to worry about. At the moment, we’re on the same side. Also, I’m the one who recreated the spell that gave you legs again, so a little respect would be appreciated,” Crowley snapped. 

Baby looked him up and down, and nodded. “Thank you,” she said simply and warily. 

“And this is Loki,” Crowley said, gesturing towards the archangel hiding in plain sight. “Trickster demigod and all.”

Dean opened his mouth. “Actually, he’s—“

“—A real pain in the ass,” Sam finished, cutting off Dean’s attempt to reveal Gabriel’s identity. The archangel gave Dean a dirty look, while giving Sam an appreciative glance of the eyes. 

When Dean sent Sam a questioning look, Sam shook his head. _Crowley’s playing nice because he thinks Gabriel is a pagan god. Let’s keep it that way_ , Sam managed to convey with a few quick gestures and facial expressions. Dean nodded once, but still looked annoyed. 

“I can imagine,” Baby said, looking at the duo over carefully, obviously expecting trouble.

“Baby?” Dean asked, grabbing her arm and shoving up her jacket sleeve. “Where’s your watch?”

She looked at her arm curiously. “Huh. I don’t know.”

Dean, Sam, and Baby all looked at Crowley. “Where’s the watch?” Dean asked.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Watch?”

“Yeah. Last time when she became real--human, whatever--she had a watch on her arm that was a timer. It counted down the time she had left as a human. It was only 24 hours,” Sam explained. 

“How long do I have this time?” she asked. 

Gabriel glanced over to see Crowley looking very smug. “Ah. Well, as it turns out, the duration of such a spell is based on the strength of the one who cast it. Your amateur managed 24 hours because she was young. My status of King of the Crossroads--well, let’s just say she’ll be around for a _very_ long time. Your blood helped seal the deal.”

“Permanent long,” Gabriel clarified. 

“Wait, I’m trapped as a human now?” Baby asked, sounding worried.

“Wait, I just lost my car?” Dean asked at the same time. 

“No, no! In times of great need, she’ll be able to turn into a human and drag your asses out of whatever fire you two happen to fall into. But whenever you need four wheels again, she’ll change back,” Gabriel explained. 

“This is…amazing,” Sam said, looking at the angel and demon. “Thank you,” he sincerely said.

“Don’t get all emotional over it,” Crowley said, looking uncomfortable. 

Baby grinned and Dean gave her a one-armed hug. 

“So,” Crowley said with a clap of his hands. “Now that you’ve got your protection and I’ve held up my end of our deal, you kids have fun stopping the end of the world.” Crowley held out a hand, palm up towards Gabriel and waited several seconds. 

The archangel sighed dramatically, dug around in his jacket pocket, and pulled out a set of keys which he dropped into the demon’s waiting hand. 

“Good luck boys, and Car. Oh, and you too, Robert. See you ‘round,” the demon said with a grin and a wink before he disappeared. 

“Where did he go?” Dean asked.

“Probably Australia,” Gabriel said with a shrug. When several pairs of eyes widened in curiosity, he held up his hands. “It’s nothing! Besides, I can’t say anything because of demon-pagan/angel confidence.”

Now that Crowley was gone, Castiel approached the Impala and nodded at her. “It’s good to see you again, Baby,” he said politely.

The Impala looked Castiel over, and in one swift motion had closed the gap between them and patted Castiel on the shoulder in a comforting way. “I’m sorry about your father, Castiel. I remember when Sam and Dean were looking for John—it’s a rough road to drive, looking for a missing father. Glad to see you aren’t on another bender, though.”

Gabriel’s eyes got as round as saucers at that, even as Castiel’s cheeks flushed red from embarrassment. “You got _drunk_?” he demanded of his brother. Before Castiel could respond Gabriel’s eyebrows arched up so high they almost disappeared in his hair and he whipped around to Dean. “For the love of _Father_ , Dean, if you were going to introduce my wet blanket of a brother to alcohol, you should have invited me! As a chaperone, if nothing else.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean snapped. He ignored the unconscious smirk that ghosted across Sam’s face in an attempt to not laugh. “Look, I had nothing to do with it!”

“He drank a liquor store on his own accord,” Sam offered, and Gabriel couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to be impressed or scandalized. 

“Why did he do that?” Gabriel asked.

“Well, we sorta died and…long story short, God’s not interested in stopping the Prize Fight,” Sam explained quickly. 

The easy grin that had been on Gabriel’s face the whole time fell away, a look of shock and heart-wrenching disappointment on his face. His golden eyes were cast downward, and for several seconds he seemed unnaturally still, reminding everyone around him that he was, in fact, not a human but an Angel. Bobby broke the silence. 

“You two idjits _died_?” Bobby asked, shocked and angry that they hadn’t told him about this particular escapade. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wasn’t a big deal. Isn’t. Sort of a moot point now, right?” Dean said. “Besides, it’s not like it’s anything new, really.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me for wanting to know that my boys kicked the damn bucket!” Bobby snapped. 

Baby smacked both Sam and Dean on the arm, making them flinch in pain. “What the hell, you knew about this! At least, I think you did.” Dean said to the car lady.

She motioned toward Bobby. “That was on his behalf,” she said. “You should tell Bobby these things!”

Gabriel, who had been quiet and contemplative for several minutes, shrugged. “Well, nothing’s changed, then. We all knew that was a bust to begin with, anyways. I’m just sorry I missed the aftermath.”

“Except for Castiel calling us names, it was sort of a boring aftermath,” Sam admitted. 

“Dude! How could you forget his drunk singing? Or the terribly raunchy jokes?” Dean asked, smirking as the angel started to turn red. 

“Oh, yeah! And when he _did_ try to fly away, he ended up trapping himself in Baby’s trunk. That was sorta funny,” Sam said, a goofy grin on his face when he remembered Cas’s drunken and colorful Enochian swears coming from the closed trunk.

“Just be glad you didn’t break anything, Castiel,” Baby said with a wagging finger. “I’d be pretty pissed if you had broken something in your drunken fury.”

“I apologize for that. For everything. I don’t even know why I did that,” Castiel admitted, voice low with apology. 

Baby pointed at Dean. “He’s a terrible influence, trust me. I’ve been on the receiving end of plenty of terrible ideas from him, and I’ve seen the trouble Sam got into while trying to imitate big brother. No harm, no problem.”

Realizing the Trickster had been too quiet, Sam turned to see Gabriel was looking off into the distance, as though seeing something far away. Sam waved a hand in front of the Archangel’s face, to bring him from his trance. “Hello, Earth to Gabriel?” Sam asked. 

Gabriel blinked his eyes. “Speaking of parties, I’ve gotta get going,” he said without preamble. 

Sam and Dean gave him a look. “What’s up?” Dean asked. 

Gabriel sighed. “Took ‘em long enough, but the Pagans just convened an emergency meeting. Looks like their finally taking the Apocalypse seriously.”

“They invited you?” Sam asked. 

Gabriel winked. “Not in the slightest, but it’s never prevented me from going before. Got to keep up appearances and all that.”

“Why don’t we come with you?” Sam suggested, and both Gabriel and Dean had looks of horror flash across their faces. 

“What are you talking about now?” Dean demanded. 

Sam motioned towards Gabriel. “If the Pagans of the world are in one place, maybe we can go talk to them. Maybe they’d be willing to help us against the Archangels.”

“No way, Sam. You and Dean aren’t going anyway near _actual_ pagans.”

“Why not? Think we can’t handle ourselves?” Dean asked, sounded defensive.

“No, I don’t. Because if I took you with me to this meeting, know what would happen? They’d probably _eat_ you.”

There was only mild surprise on Dean’s face. “Right. I forgot pagans liked long pig,” he said. 

Sam narrowed his eyes at Gabriel. “Wait, you never did that for your cover, right? Eat anyone?”

“Ew, no. I never ate at those meetings, and considering the other pagans never really wanted me there, they didn’t object when I didn’t take part of the meal.”

“So, there are people there, about to be eaten?” Baby asked. She crossed her arms. “Shouldn’t we go save them?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No, no way. It’s not happening. Your asses are way too valuable to risk for some unfortunate entrees.” 

“Valuable?” Sam repeated. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You two are the Vessels, remember, chucklehead? These Gods have set aside their differences—as much as paganly possible—to discuss the Apocalypse at this meeting. If they figured out you were the vessels of the archangels causing all the trouble, what makes you think they wouldn’t give you up in a second? Offering sacrifices to angry deities is sort of their thing! Usually they aren’t doing the sacrifices but idea is the same. Sorry boys, no dice.” 

“But, if they gave us up, the Archangels would win,” Dean said, thinking quickly. “It wouldn’t behoove them at all to do that.”

Gabriel shook his head. “They don’t know that, and they aren’t quick to change their minds, either, once they decide a course of action. Look, I’ll just be gone a little while. Try to make sure the pagans don’t do anything stupid. You know it’s the end of the world when _I_ have to be voice of reason!

“Anyway, you two do what you do best—get in Heaven’s way. I’ll be back when I convince them to stand down. No matter how many pagans there are, they don’t stand a chance against Lucifer. I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Don’t need to threaten us with that,” Dean muttered.

“You know you love my charismatic personality, Dean-o!" Gabriel turned to Castiel and glanced up to the ceiling, motioning for him to follow. Both angels disappeared, leaving the Hunters and the Impala in the kitchen to ponder their next move.

~*~

“Gabriel, be careful and good luck,” Castiel said simply as they stood on the rooftop of Bobby’s once again. The sky overhead was getting darker as an afternoon thunderstorm crept over the horizon towards them. 

“Don’t worry about me, little brother. It’s you I’m worried about,” Gabriel said, setting aside his selfish persona for a moment in order to help the younger angel. Gabriel reached out and grasped Castiel’s shoulder, and the younger angel felt the trickle of Grace within himself suddenly become a rushing torrent of Heavenly power. He gasped at the sudden strength, feeling energized and a million years younger from it. 

Gabriel smiled warmly, genuinely at Castiel’s surprised look. “I can’t restore the connection, but I could recharge the battery. Wish I could do more.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Castiel said sincerely. “Thank you, Gabriel. I—truly appreciate this.”

“Please, no big deal. Need you on your toes to keep an eye on those Winchesters and especially now that their car is on two legs. Wow, she sure is a spitfire!” Gabriel whistled.

“Gabriel…I wish to apologize for the things I said before.”

“No, no. You were right. I abandoned Heaven, and I abandoned you, Castiel. I’m sorry about that. Look, just keep them safe, alright? When I get back, we’ll start making headway on derailing the Apocalypse. Toodles, Cas!” Gabriel said cheerfully, and he disappeared, a crack of thunder roaring overhead.


	7. Old Friends

His senses were on over-drive; he could see anything and everything for miles around, could hear a ladybug on a blade of grass almost thirty miles away. A gentle breeze played with the edge of his coat, and on it he could smell the ocean from across the continent. Gabriel’s Grace ran rampant inside him, revitalizing and re-energizing the almost Fallen angel. 

Castiel could no longer find any anger in himself for Gabriel’s selfish actions before. It seemed his older brother really wished to make amends, and the Grace transfer seemed to prove it. Though it wouldn’t last long, it would work for them to start the attempt to sabotage the Apocalypse. 

Castiel took in another calming breath before he flew down into Bobby’s kitchen. He grinned to himself, and Dean noticed the change in demeanor instantly.

“Hey, Cas. What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked. Baby, Bobby, and Sam, now sitting around the kitchen table, looked at the angel with curiosity on their features.

“Gabriel gave me some of his Grace,” Castiel said. 

“Gabriel recharged your batteries?” Bobby said. “Didn’t know he could do that.”

“He’s an Archangel, though he may try to deny it. The Archangels are almost as powerful as God Himself—he couldn’t connect me back to the Host, but he gave me enough energy to last this war until the end,” Castiel explained.

“Great!” Sam said honestly. “He didn’t happen to mention anything about possibly helping us derail the Apocalypse, did he?”

Castiel nodded once. “He mentioned working on something when he returned. Until he can convince the pagans to stay out of this fight, we’re on our own,” Castiel said. 

Dean sighed in aggravation. He swallowed the last of his beer and leaned back in the chair, eyeing everyone. “So, now what do we do? Until featherbrain gets back we don’t have a plan.”

“We should stay low until he gets back,” Sam suggested. 

“I’m not going to sit here with my thumb up my ass. Let’s find another case to work on. It’s the end of the world, something supernatural has _got_ to have a bug up its ass somewhere,” Dean said colorfully. Baby nodded in agreement with Dean.

“There’s no point in rushing off into the sunset without a goal or a plan,” Bobby said, trying to be the voice of reason. “We gotta figure out our next move first!”

As the four continued to argue about staying at Bobby’s or getting back on the road, Castiel rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of his wings despite Jimmy’s vessel being in his way. He wanted nothing more than to unfold his wings are fly to the ocean, or the Himalayas. He always liked the cold, dark solitude that could be found on the top of those particular mountains. 

However, it would use a lot of Grace, and it was strange for him to have to consider how much Grace such flights would use up now that he had a limited amount. It was frustrating, but he had to remind himself to be thankful he could fly at all. He had been to the point where even his wings wouldn’t have held him aloft at all, had Gabriel not interfered.

Castiel decided one flight wouldn’t hurt him too much. He needed to stretch his wings anyway, and he promised himself he wouldn’t go too far. With a rustle of feathers the angel disappeared, leaving them alone.

Dean whipped around, his body in tuned to that rustling sound by now, and looked around for the angel no longer amongst them. “Dammit, Cas, leave a note!” he snapped at the ceiling.

“Where’d he go?” Baby asked.

“Anyone’s guess,” Bobby said with a shrug. 

“Can we at least agree to hit up a bar? We aren’t exactly rolling in money here,” Dean said. His eyes brightened as he got an idea. “Hey, why don’t we hit up a bar in Sioux Falls?”

Bobby narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Ever heard the expression ‘don’t shit where you eat’? You start hustling people outta money here I’m gonna have Sheriff Mills up my ass about it!”

Sam chuckled. “After we helped her save the town from zombies? I’m pretty sure we’re in the clear.”

Baby looked at Sam, eyes slightly wide. “Do you kids ever stay out of trouble?” 

~*~

It felt _so good_ to fly again.

There was no word, in any human language, to describe the exact feeling Castiel felt when he flapped his wings and found himself actually flying once again. Ecstasy was close, but still paled in comparison to the true power he felt as his wings carried him high into the air. He allowed his mind to go blank and let his wings decide where to go by feeling the currents as he traveled between planes, the blessing all angels had. 

To most humans, angelic transport seemed instantaneous, and most of the time it could be considered as such. This time, however, Castiel did not focus on a place or time. He instead drifted, wings tilting and adjusting to the currents and planes around him. Mountains, oceans, forests, jungles, all passed by under or around him as he traveled, safe from all entities in this state. Nothing could knock an angel out of flight while he traveled like this. 

The Apocalypse, Heaven, Hell, Michael, Lucifer, even the Winchesters all were momentarily forgotten as Castiel allowed his wings to do the thinking and simply enjoyed the ride. The only thing that could rival this feeling was the feeling of constriction around his heart that only seemed to happen when Dean laughed. Which was strange, considering his current freedom was the very antithesis of that constricting feeling, but they still felt similar. 

Too soon, the rational part of Castiel’s mind reminded the rest of him that this flight was not supposed to use up all of the Grace Gabriel had given him. With a sheepish frown on his face, the angel decided to land in what appeared to be thick jungle, in order to gain his bearings and return to the Winchesters. The vibrant green of the area and the unusual plants made him pause, but only for a moment. He shook his head at himself when he realized where he was. 

It didn’t take long for him to trudge through the jungle to what he was looking for, and he couldn’t help the tiny smirk that turned up the corners of his lips when he found it.

The pool was crystal clear, allowing a perfect view of underwater plants, small fishes, and the twisted, snarled roots of old trees. The water was cool, but Castiel didn’t notice the temperature. He was squatting on the edge of the embankment of the pool, peering curiously into the water in front of him. One hand trailed through the water lazily, and several small brown shapes followed it. They tumbled around and over his hand, even going so far as to nuzzle his palm and nip his finger tips with their tiny beaks. 

The gaggle of newborn platypuses continued to race around the pool in front of him, effortlessly flying through the water as he did through the air on his own wings. Mostly, they seemed content to nuzzle his hand with strange yet natural affection. They didn’t seem nervous of his presence at all—even their mother who floated on the surface nearby didn’t even cast a glance at the angel’s direction. Castiel shook his head at her nonchalance. 

He remembered Gabriel presenting the first platypus to him so many millions of years ago, a creation of odds and ends he’d found in Heaven. He remembered fondly how Gabriel’s eyes had lit up when Castiel had taken the creature to a clear pond of water just like this and taught it how to swim by example, by flying over the pond. The loops and twists and turns Castiel managed in the air with wings became second nature to the mammal in the water, and all its descendants since. 

That was before the rebellion of Lucifer. Things were simpler back then; brothers and sisters didn’t have to kill each other. They all got along well, and the Earth was their playground. 

Castiel’s shoulders slumped slightly when he realized he had neglected this amazing gift in the millennia since then. When Gabriel disappeared he had shut down, became an unfeeling “hammer,” as Dean had described him. Until he’d met Dean, that’s what he had been, utterly and completely devoid of connection.

And now, the world was ending, and he was playing with a gathering of fluffy, baby platypuses.

Castiel allowed himself a smile when one baby shoved another off his hand so it could have a turn playing with him. “Brothers can be troublesome,” Castiel told them in a knowing tone. “But they are also the closest of friends and allies. Keep each other safe,” he told those particular two, now wrestling each other. They paused in their mock battle to look at Castiel before swimming off. Within a moment the wild babies and their mother swam away, disappearing into the tangled roots underwater. 

Curious what had driven them off, Castiel looked around and was slightly startled when he saw a figure in black behind him, watching the show with arched eyebrows. 

“What are you doing here, Crowley?” Castiel asked, standing and turning towards the demon. Crowley’s black attire stood out plainly against the rich green foliage surrounding them. Castiel was certain he had found the most remote spot in the whole continent—why was the demon here?

“I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” Crowley said with a huff. “Why are you playing with swimming duck-rats?”

“Platypuses,” Castiel corrected, able to hear Gabriel’s voice in his head. “It’s no business of yours,” he said, obviously looking everywhere but at the smirking demon.

“Sure it is. You’re on my property, feathers.”

“Property?” Crowley pointed behind the angel and Castiel turned to see a house tucked into the shade of a massive tree. The house was built of logs, branches, stone, but looked like a mansion. He glanced at Crowley with a tilt of his head. 

“Believe me, it’s just as impressive on the inside. I’d invite you in, but it’s angel-proof.”

Things clicked in Castiel’s mind. “This was part of your bargain to cast the spell on the Impala. A place safe from both the minions of Heaven and Hell?”

“Give the angel a cookie, he’s not a birdbrain after all!” Crowley said, even added a couple slow claps to the sarcastic tone. 

Ocean-blue eyes hardened. Gabriel’s Grace pulsed through him, giving Castiel a boost of confidence he hadn’t felt since he’d pulled Dean from the Pit. “Watch yourself with me, Crowley. You might have a deal with…Loki…but _we_ have no such understanding. The Winchesters are grateful for what you did for the Impala, but if you attempt anything untoward to any of the Winchesters, you’ll face my true wrath.” 

Crowley smirked, still radiating his usual sense of self-confidence, but he couldn’t help but move back ever-so-slightly. He had sort of forgotten Castiel was not just any angel, he was a _rebellious_ one. The last angel with that much spitfire in his system was Lucifer. 

Best not to get on his bad side.

“Your pillow talk needs work, darling,” Crowley said. He held up his hands towards Castiel after he frowned. “No untoward intentions here. Just want to get out this alive, just like everyone else. Scout’s honor. No need to give me the shotgun speech.”

“I don’t need a shotgun to kill you.”

“It’s an expression! Don’t they have metaphors upstairs?” Crowley asked in exasperation. 

Castiel was about to retort when a faint voice called his name. He whipped around, eyes scanning the jungle around them, but there was no one nearby. The sensation of being called was so slight it was easy to miss. He scowled, trying to concentrate and figure out who was calling him. 

_Castiel! Hey, Cas, is your radio on?_

Baby? Was she…praying to him? That was the only explanation he could come up with. But why was she doing it, why not Sam or Dean…?

A knot clenched in his Grace when he heard the panic in her voice.

_I don’t know if this is even working, but I don’t have any idea what to do! I’ve seen Dean do this before, so I’m hoping this works…dammit it, Cas, if you can hear me come back!_

_Demons grabbed the boys, Cas! They jumped ‘em and disappeared!_


	8. Interrogation Skills, Winchester Style

“Come on, Cas, where are you?” Baby said while trying not to sound panicked. She paced back and forth in front of an open biker bar, though the entire building was empty. The red lights from the neon signs in the windows, proclaiming the place “Open” and selling “Imported Beer” cast an eerie light on the ground surrounding the building—it was the only sign of civilization for miles, though night made it seem like the only place that existed in the universe. 

She paused and stamped her foot in sudden irritation. “Dammit, you forgot to tell him where you are!” she snapped at herself. “Right, Cas if you’ve got your radio on, I’m about 6.7 miles from Highway 80 in Nebraska, thirty miles from Omaha. Parked in front of the Rodeo Hog grill--”

“I came as fast as I could,” Castiel’s gravelly voice announced behind her. She turned to see Castiel looking concerned. “I would have gotten here sooner if you had given me the address first.”

“Sorry, I’m new at this,” she snapped. “Wasn’t even sure if you could even _hear_ me.”

“What happened?” Castiel asked briskly, walking up to the building warily, waiting for a trap or someone waiting to ambush them. 

“We decided to take a little road trip,” Baby said. 

“How did you get to Nebraska so quickly?” Castiel asked. “I only left you a few moments ago.”

Baby gave him a wide-eyed look. “We’ve been on the road for most of the day, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes widened slightly and he berated himself mentally. He must have spent most of that time flying—he’d forgotten what it was like to be able to fly, and gotten carried away reliving it. _If Sam or Dean are hurt because of me…_

“The boys were getting antsy, so they stopped here to hustle some pool.” Baby continued, not truly noticing Castiel’s melancholy. “They were only gone for about 5 minutes before Dean started shouting for me. I changed or whatever, but as soon as I got my foot in the door the boys and the dozen or so people holding them onto the ground disappeared. Those black-eyed bastards disappeared right in front of me.” Her hands were shaking in rage. 

“You didn’t go in with them? Why didn’t you go with them?” Castiel demanded. 

“I was tired! Being human is exhausting, I was resting,” she said quietly, almost ashamed-sounding. “You don’t think I haven’t been beating myself up about this this whole time? Argh, if only I’d been here—“

“You’d be gone, too, and I’d be none-the-wiser,” Castiel said with bitter finality. “When did this happen?”

“Ten minutes ago?” Baby guessed. “I started screaming for you as soon as the bar was empty.”

Castiel looked around for a final time, and motioned for Baby to follow him into the empty bar. “There may be a clue inside as to where they’ve been taken. But we must hurry,” Cas said. Baby nodded once and followed him inside. 

The place looked like it had been hit by an angry cyclone. Chairs and table were tossed around the room and broken. Shards of glass covered every available surface, and the strong smell of alcohol—from the smashed bottles behind the bar—burned Baby’s nose. She wrinkled it in disgust but did not let it deter her from carefully following the angel. 

Baby grabbed Cas’s shoulder and spun him slightly so he could see the symbol painted on the wall behind the bar. “Cas, isn’t that the same thing the demons in the alley used to send you to parts unknown last time?” she asked. Castiel leaned forward in and the angel swore. 

“An angel banishing sigil,” he muttered angrily. “This was a trap. The demons here were expecting me to be with Sam and Dean, just like last time.”

“I thought you killed all those demons,” Baby said, eyes wide and starting as Castiel stood seething. 

“So did I. I don’t understand, regular demons don’t just know these sigils and wards, they have to be taught this magic. What is going on!” Castiel growled. 

“Oh no…” Baby moaned. She kneeled down and found Ruby’s demon-killing knife on the floor, drops of blood on its handle and sprinkled on the glass around it. Baby stood up and carefully tucked the knife into the inner-most pocket of her leather jacket. She looked up, determination replacing panic on her face. 

“We’ve gotta find them, Cas.”

“I’m well aware of that, Baby,” Castiel said; he tried to keep a cool head, but he felt like he was drowning in guilt. If only he’d been here, he might have been able to stop the brothers from walking into the trap….

“Hey, wings, wake up,” Baby said, snapping her fingers in front of Castiel’s face to get his attention. “Don’t you hop aboard the guilt train right now! If you’d been here, you’d be who-knows-where right now. Remember last time, you couldn’t sense the demons standing right in front of you? You wouldn’t have been able to save them, Cas. But together, we can. Come on, let’s figure out the best route.” 

They stood out in the dusty parking lot in front of the bar for several moments and debated their options. “If these demons have been taught the same magic as the ones from last time, then I won’t be able to sense them,” Castiel said. “They could be right in front of me and I’d never notice.”

“Alright, so a flyby is a no-go.”

“That’s assuming they are close-by. Demons are like angels; the stronger they are, the farther they can travel. They could have taken Sam and Dean anywhere in the country, the world even. Also, I have not heard any sort of prayer from either one of them, so the demons must be preventing their prayers from being heard.”

Baby’s face fell. “Cas, you’re making this sound like we’ll _never_ be able to find them.”

Castiel’s downcast eyes were the only thing she needed to see before she stomped her foot in anger. “Don’t even think about giving up, Cas! Come on, there’s got to be something.”

“Did they say anything to you? A name, a location, anything?” Castiel shot back, and Baby screwed up her face in thought. 

_Dean and Sam covered in demons, their struggled futile._

_“Fuck you, Me--” Dean had snarled at the one holding his chin as it stared at him, a lazy smirk on its female face. She squeezed her fingers and cut off Dean’s tirade._

_“Our Lord will be so happy to have you two at his feet,” the demon had said. Just as Baby was about to start tearing through the demons to get to the boys, the entire mob disappeared._

“’Meh’?” Castiel asked. “That’s all that Dean managed to say?”

“That’s what it sounded like,” Baby said. 

Castiel opened his mouth to speak but he never managed to say anything as he suddenly fell to the ground, roaring in pain. 

“Cas, what the--!” 

“Sto—o-oop, st—op—“ were the only things Castiel could manage to stutter between pained gasps. Castiel writhed on the ground in terrible agony, his normally stoic voice pitched high in pain and panic. “No--! Sto-p! It!” he stuttered, clutching his torso and shaking. His eyes flashed with blue light as he jerked on the ground spastically. 

_“Omnipotensis Dei potestatem invoco…”_ a deep voice chanted in the surrounding darkness.  
Baby whipped around, trying to get a bead on whatever was attacking Castiel when she caught a glimpse of a figure hiding behind a corner. Castiel’s screams were good for one thing, actually. They completely covered up the sound of Baby’s footfalls as she ran (too fast for a normal human) around the corner the figure was behind.

The demon in the meat suit of a young man wearing a postal worker’s uniform had literally no idea what hit him. One minute he was hiding unseen around a corner, chanting the spell, and next he was slammed into the wall of the bar behind him. His feet dangled a foot off the ground, and the knife at his throat was enough of a persuasion to stop him from speaking further. 

The woman was holding him up effortlessly, by a single hand splayed over his chest, and though he knew the knife at his throat was created specifically to kill demons, it was the merciless edge to her silver eyes at made him squirm with panic. They almost seemed to glow in the low light outside the bar. 

His eyes were as black as a starless night and he had been speaking a language Baby didn’t understand. What she did understand was that the demon’s words were making Castiel suffer terribly, and for that she made sure to add extra pressure to the creature’s throat to cut off his incantation. 

“Make one more sound,” she hissed, and the blade bit into his throat. He could feel the warm trickle of blood run down his neck and stain the stupid blue uniform.

Castiel stumbled forward a moment later, panting and looking ill. He glared at the demon, who only smirked. 

“Figured—you’d show up—at some point,” the demon hissed at them. “The Winchester’s—bitch angel, hehe—ulp!” The knife sank in just a touch more, and the demon began to panic slightly when it seemed obvious that this woman had no care about protecting the meat-suit he was wearing—this was usually the bargaining chip demons used against the Winchesters in the past to get out of tough spots. Threaten the host and the brothers usually backed off. 

This woman did not seem interested in negotiating in the _slightest_ , and that set off alarm bells in his head. 

“Where did they go?” Baby demanded. 

“Like I’d tell you—“ the demon croaked. 

“Let’s cut to the chase, okay?” Baby said calmly. “You know what this knife is, and you know what it does to your kind, right?” 

The demon nodded slightly. 

“You tell me where the boys are, or I stab you with this until you’re more holes than person. And then the angel here is going to resurrect your corroded corpse and we’re going to repeat this little game until you tell me where the _fuck_ my sons are, got it?”

The demon looked at Castiel and let out a panicked “eep” noise when the demon realized the angel was looking at the woman with slight surprise on his face. 

“You can’t!” the demon said. “You stab me and I die, that’s it, game over!”

A vicious look flashed over Baby’s face. “Do you really want to test that little theory of yours?”

The demon thought for several long seconds. “I tell you, you let me live, right?”

Baby seemed to think it over, then nodded. “You’ll live. Now, start talking,” she snapped.

“Montreal!” the demon hissed. “They’re in an apartment complex in Montreal. Next to a lake. You can’t miss it!” 

“Montreal? Where’s that?” Baby asked Castiel. 

“Canada. It’s the country above this one.”

Baby paused and looked at him again. “Above? So, it’s up there?” she asked, glancing up at the sky. “Is it next to Heaven?”

Castiel let out a small annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes. “It’s north of here.”

“Ah. North. I can do north. So, can you take us there?”

Castiel thought to himself for a moment. “I should be able to manage it. But Montreal is a large city, there are thousands of people there—“

Baby glanced at the demon and saw a of a smirk flash over its face. If she’d blinked she would’ve missed it entirely. Moving with incredible speed, she pulled the knife away from the demon’s neck and stabbed the knife straight through the demon’s shoulder, going through the muscle and bone until it hit the wall behind it. The demon howled in pain and was about to rip the knife out when it found its arms pinned to the wall by Castiel’s outstretched hand. 

“Lie to me one more time,” Baby growled. 

“Get it out, get it out!” the demon shrieked. Even being hit in the shoulder, he could feel the dangerous magic of the knife send painful shocks through his chest. “Pull it out and I’ll tell you!” 

Without a moment’s hesitation the Impala ripped the bloody blade from the damaged shoulder and replaced in against the demon’s neck. “Talk. Now.”

“Alright, alright! They’re at the warehouse on Wexler Street, about 13 miles down the road. Meg’s got ‘em there.”

“Meg!” Baby and Castiel said in tandem, both feeling foolish for not realizing it quicker. 

“Yeah, now, a, let me go?” the demon asked hopefully. His hopeful face fell in dismay when Baby looked at him, eyes narrow. 

“To whoever’s riding in the passenger seat right now, I’m sorry. Trust me, where you’re about to go is a lot better than where you just came from,” Baby said loudly. She pulled the knife back and the demon struggled, almost making her drop him. 

“You promised you’d let me live!” the demon accused. 

Baby shrugged. “I did. I just didn’t say for how long.” The knife plunged into the demon’s chest, and lightning danced across the creature, killing it and the poor man he was possessing. Baby allowed the dead body to drop to the ground, and after she wiped the blade off on the dead man’s uniform, she tucked it back into her coat. 

“Cas, are you gonna be okay?” she asked, and Cas nodded slowly.

“Yes, I’ll recover. I must ask, how did you know that demon was lying?”

Baby shrugged. “I, uh, sorta assumed as much? I mean, it was a demon, and they lie.”

Castiel arched an eyebrow at her. “You _assumed_ it was lying? What if it had been telling the truth?”

“Then I gave it an incentive to not suddenly start, didn’t I? Besides,” Baby motioned around them. “Demons smart enough to make a trap, snatch the boys, and they just _happen_ to leave someone behind who would tell us exactly where the boys are? Seemed like a speed trap to me.”

“I forgot how fearsome you can be,” the angel said, wincing slightly and rubbing a hand over his stomach as he looked at the dead man at their feet.

“I don’t appreciate demons hurting my boys. Cas, you _sure_ you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said, brushing off the last of the dust from his coat. “You saved my life for a second time now.”

“You’ve saved my boys’ lives countless times, angel. You’re a friend. I wasn’t going to let him do—whatever it was he was doing to you,” she said. 

Castiel took a steadying breath. “Angelic _exorcism_ ,” he said slowly. “Another tactic demons didn’t know until someone taught them. 

“Wait, those actually exist?” Baby asked in surprise. 

“Yes, but they’re very rarely used. When one has to gain permission to be inside a vessel to begin with, getting forcefully kicked out is rare,” Castiel said. “If you hadn’t moved as quickly as you did, I would’ve been forced from Jimmy’s body and returned to Heaven.”

“Not a good idea to get dropped on the door of the jail when you’re on the run from the cops,” she agreed. 

Castiel straightened his tie and cracked his neck, feeling the last of his true form settle back into the nooks and crannies of Jimmy’s body, back where he belonged. “We must get Sam and Dean away from Meg. I fear she’ll try to give Sam to Lucifer and kill Dean outright if we don’t go now.” 

Baby nodded. “Right. Well, lead the way, Cas.”

Cas reached out his hand to touch her forehead and paused for a second. “You do know that I cannot resurrect demons, correct?”

“The idea behind a bluff is for the other person to not know that, Castiel,” she said, allowing herself a small grin.

If Castiel didn’t know Baby was Dean Winchester’s car, that statement alone would have cemented it for him. 

He touched her forehead and the scene around them changed from an abandoned bar to a small, metal warehouse. The place was surrounded by cornfields, broken brown stalks the only remnants of the last harvest. Castiel and Baby found themselves on a hill just behind the warehouse and had to drop to the ground immediately so the demonic sentries surrounding the place didn’t see them. 

“Well, guessing from the number of demons loitering around it, I’d say this is the place,” Baby muttered. Castiel held a finger to his lips to quiet her, and just barely lifted his head up to get a better look at the place.

“Over two dozen demons, from what I could see,” Castiel whispered as he ducked down. “And the walls have angelic wards all over them,” he said. When Baby looked up to get a better look, she could see the bizarre symbols painted all over the walls of the warehouse. 

“So, you can’t go in?”

“Not while those wards are intact.”

“How many do we need to get rid of before you can zap in and grab the boys?”

Castiel thought for a few seconds. “The ones on the southwest wall are the foundation wards. Get rid of those and the rest of the wards around it will fail.”

Baby’s eyes seemed to brighten in excitement. “Is there any particular way to get rid of those spray-painted squiggles I need to know about?”

“No. As long as they are damaged, the spells will fail.”

Baby grinned dangerously, and Castiel had to agree with Crowley earlier statement. _I’m definitely happy that Baby is one our side._

“I can definitely do some damage. Ever seen what a car can do to a wall? In most cases, the walls do not survive such encounters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angel exorcism is legit canon. I found it in ‘Bobby Singer’s Guide to Hunting’ by David Reed. It’s a pretty good read, you get a lot of background on Bobby's life and hunting in general.


	9. The Same Damn Words

“You know, for an escape plan, this is a pretty terrible one,” Dean muttered, growling as the ropes binding him dug into his wrists and ankles. He was tied together with his back to Sam’s and they were sitting in a meticulously painted magic circle that he didn’t recognize offhand. The side of his face ached from the black eye swelling his eye and cheek, and poor Sammy didn’t look much better considering the goose egg on his forehead. The demons had not held back any punches when kidnapping the Winchesters. 

“You try fighting off 50 demons and see how well you look by the end of it,” Baby snapped. “Oh, wait, you know from experience, don’t cha?”

She was also sitting in another magic circle, but she wasn’t bound. The circles seemed to serve as magical traps that could contain anything-- human, car, etc.--and were perfectly capable of containing her without any worry of it breaking under her brute strength. She knew because she must have thrown her full weight against the invisible walls a dozen times or more, but only succeeded in giving herself a headache and making the demons outright laugh at her.

Baby sat cross-legged in her circle and was nonchalantly pulling shards of metal and concrete from her arms and face, adding to a little pile of bloody debris next to her. Despite the blood running down her scratched cheeks and the long gashes on her arms, she didn’t seem to be in much, if any, pain. 

Castiel continued to glare angrily out from the holy oil circle his was trapped in—despite the knowledge the circle would hold him, the demons that survived the initial invasion of angel and car circled him warily. His lip was actually split and blood dripped down his chin, which only added to the intimidating vision he created. 

“Cas, hate to break this to you, but you won’t be able to kill her by glaring hard enough. Believe me, I’ve tried,” Sam said a little loudly. Her back was turned to them and she was currently standing at an altar covered in the typical black magic stuff—bones, blood, sacrificed adorable animals, the works. 

“Sammy, why so mean? You and I had something special once, remember?” Meg asked with a cheeky grin.

“Possessing me and making me kill people is _not_ what I call a good time,” Sam snarled, remembering the terror on Jo’s face while he was forced to watch his hands almost stab the young hunter, whom he thought of as a sister.

Meg simply shrugged. “To each his own, I suppose.” 

“So, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’re giving us to Lucifer? Is that your big plan?” Dean asked, getting lippy now that any hope of rescue was starting to dwindle fast. 

“I’m just giving our Lord what he wants. He wants you, Sam. And if I give him Dean he’ll be able to completely destroy any chance the angels have against him. The world will then be reborn in chaos, blood and brimstone. Sounds pleasant, doesn’t it?” she asked in a dreamy voice. 

“You’re definition of pleasant leaves much to be desired,” Castiel muttered. 

Meg shot him a look and he felt an invisible hand smack him across the face, making his already wounded lip burn a thousand times worse. He clenched his teeth and threw her a deadly glare after spitting out a wad of blood that made the flames sizzle. 

“That’s repayment for last time, angel,” she said, motioning towards her face and revealing it was scarred on one side. 

“Magic’s not fair!” Dean snapped. “You wanna beat the hell outta someone, get me outta this circle and we’ll go _mano-a-diablo_ ,” he snarled. 

“Still a lady-killer, huh, Dean? Well, sorry sweetheart but not this time. You Winchesters are like cockroaches—impossible to catch and even more difficult to keep permanently dead. I’ve already accomplished the first part, and once he gets here, Lucifer will accomplish the second.”

With that final note, Meg turned back to her altar, lit several black candles, and began a long and low incantation. Wind whipped around her, blowing leaves and cornstalks around her feet. The image would have looked spooky if it wasn’t for the enormous hole in the wall on the other side of the warehouse caused by Baby’s unorthodox entrance. 

“Dean, what do we do?” Sam hissed as he started to squirm, hoping the ropes would loosen if he wiggled long enough. 

“I don’t know, Sam!” Dean hissed back; he tried to grab the small file Sam usually kept in his back pocket in order to cut through the ropes, but realized with a panicked growl the file was gone. Every single blade, bullet, talisman and lint ball the Winchesters had in their pockets had been removed by Meg’s minions. She’d learned not to underestimate the Winchesters, unfortunately.

“Baby, Cas, any thoughts?” Dean whispered as Meg’s words began to rise in pitch and repeat the words again. The winds whipped around her more fiercely, and Dean swore he heard a crack of thunder in the distance….

“Dean, if you know how to free me from this circle, I’ve got my ‘listening ears’ on,” Castiel said, even curling his fingers into air quotes as he spoke. Cas motioned to the flames crackling around him. “Until then, what am I supposed to do, exactly?”

“Hey, hell smog!” Baby called loudly, making all three guys stare at her. “Hey, I’m talkin’ to you, you black-eyed bitch!” 

“Baby, what the hell--!” Dean started, but Sam jerked his elbow backwards hard into Dean’s back. 

“Sssshh,” Sam said, and nodded his head towards Meg. Sure enough, the demon’s words slowed slightly. Dean immediately caught on and winked at the car. 

“You do realized Lucifer’s gonna kill you when he gets here, right?” Baby said loudly—she even laughed her engine-revving laugh, which only added to her threatening tone. “All this stupid plan is gonna do is piss him off so badly he’ll _kill_ you. He’s got an ego so big he couldn’t fit it in my trunk if he tried, and that’s saying something considering I’ve hauled bodies before,” the Impala said. 

Meg’s voice faltered, she tripped over a few of the pronunciations, and her hands were gripping the sides of the altar so strongly the boys could _hear_ the wood cracking underneath her fingers. Baby’s words were impossible to ignore, mostly for their biting tone but also bizarre content. Meg didn’t realize Baby was a car, and was probably getting confused on what in the world this over-powered human was talking about. 

“It’s gotta suck, trying to impress your Dad with all this and only making him pissed,” Dean suddenly added. “I’ve been down that road before—when I was little, I actually made him a card with little macaroni noodles glued to it that spelled out ‘I love you’ on it. Man, he was so pissed that I’d wasted food on it he spanked me so bad I couldn’t sit for a week! Then, there was the—“

“ENOUGH!!!” Meg snapped and her fingers broke the wood under her hands. She whipped around and swung her arm wide, sending Baby, Dean, and Sam crashing into their respective walls with powerful force. Dean and Sam’s colorful swearing at the pain was ignored by Baby jumping up and coming right to the wall, eyes flashing dangerously at the demon. 

“Touch them again and it won’t be _Lucifer_ that breaks you,” Baby snarled. 

“You’re exceptionally lame attempt at a distraction didn’t do you any good,” Meg sneered. She crossed her arms and got a smug, self-satisfied smirk on her face when thunder roared overhead, loud enough to make the boy’s ears hurt and the building’s walls to shake. 

Between the altar and the magic prisons suddenly stood an imposing figure of sandy hair and ice blue eyes; the only different was now that his skin was gaining red sores along his forehead, arms, and cheeks. It seemed his body was wearing thin. 

Lucifer looked at the scene before him, and a smirk played across his face. “Sam,” Lucifer said quietly, almost reverently. “When I imagined you saying yes, I wasn’t expecting it to be in such a…kinky package,” the Devil said in a teasing tone, arching an eyebrow at the Winchester in question. 

Sam instinctively ducked his head, trying not to blush at the Devil’s inappropriate words. 

“Nor was I expecting you to have an entourage,” Lucifer continued, looking at Dean, Baby, and Castiel curiously. “Why are they here, tied up?” he asked Meg. 

The demon stepped forward, pride emanating from her female figure. “They’re a gift for you, my Lord,” she said with a genuine smile. “I’ve given you the Winchesters on a silver platter. Sam is yours to take, Dean is yours to kill.” 

Lucifer tapped his chin a few times in contemplation, mulling over the myriad of thoughts. With a smile on his face Lucifer turned to Meg and cupped her face in his hands gently. “You’ve done well, my child,” he said slowly. “Few other demons are as accomplished and as loyal as you are.” 

Meg smiled at the praise, but her smile faltered when she felt Lucifer’s hands stiffen. “That's why it’s going to be bothersome finding a good replacement for you.” 

She squirmed and tried to pull away but the strength of the archangel was too much. “Wh-why?” she managed to ask. 

Lucifer leaned in close to her ear and whispered simply. “Sam is _my_ vessel, you _filth_. Nothing else is to touch him, especially not one of your tainted kind. Did you really think I would not find out about your little joyride?”

Light poured from her wide-eyes and mouth; Meg died with a final panicked scream as the light burned her out, leaving nothing but a smoking corpse in his hands.  
Lucifer let her burnt out corpse drop to the ground and closed his eyes—around them in the darkness lights flashed, followed to heavy thuds. Within half a minute all the demons in the warehouse were dead, leaving only the Winchesters, the Impala, and Castiel alone with Lucifer. 

Baby glared at the corpse and shrugged. “Told you he was going to kill you.”

Lucifer looked at the human Impala, a few shards of metal still embedded in her jacket and forehead, and he tilted his head at her just like Castiel did whenever he was confused by something. 

“You again. Do all human vehicles have the ability to become human?” he asked curiously. 

Baby flashed her teeth in a predatory way. “I’m the exception to the rule,” she simply said. 

“Why did you kill her?” Sam asked, curiosity getting the best of him. Dean shot him a furious look at actually talking to the Devil, but Lucifer chuckled. 

“Still so curious about everything. Meg was a powerful demon, yes, but she was killed for one infraction I do not take lightly.” Lucifer looked Sam up and down, a softening smile on his face. “You’re _my_ vessel, Sam. No one else’s.”

Sam felt the shiver that ran up his spine from the possessive tone of Lucifer’s statement, yet for the only time in his life he was glad he was the Devil’s vessel. Meg got what she deserved, and for that Sam was ever-so-slightly grateful. 

Lucifer turned his attention to Castiel, still glaring from within the circle, and let out a small chuckle. “There’s no point in glaring at me, Castiel. I didn’t put you in there,” he said lightly. 

Castiel wanted to say something, anything, but no words would form on his tongue. The last time he’d seen Lucifer like this he’d been terribly afraid for the Winchesters, and now that Lucifer was here, eyeing Sam up and down, Castiel was re-living that fear all over again. 

“Stay away from Sam and Dean,” the angel said, and Lucifer looked at him. 

The Devil pointed towards the Impala still trapped in her magic circle. “I’ve already had the speech, young one. I’d really rather not end up as a patch of blood on an old road, as you so colorfully put it,” Lucifer said, his tone revealing just how ridiculous a threat that was and yet he was kind of humoring her, too. 

“So, now what?” Dean demanded, still tied to his brother and both staring at Lucifer. Dean was protective yet terrified and Sam was emanating defiance. 

Lucifer came to the edge of their circle and squatted down, right in front of Sam. “Sam, Sam, Sam,” Lucifer tsked gently. “You really are a magnet for trouble, aren’t you? You’ve put me in a peculiar situation, Sam. You see, it would be very easy for me to make you say it right now, wouldn’t it? All I’d have to do is think and your friends, your brother, would be howling in pain until I made it stop. And all I’d have to do is ask ‘will you say the magic word?’”

Lucifer leaned in slightly, ice-eyes boring into Sam’s wide hazel ones, fear beginning to be replaced with protective rage. 

“You’d do it, wouldn’t you? You’d say yes, to save your friends and brother. Wouldn’t you, Sam?”

“Yes,” Sam answered instantly, honestly. Dean tried to object but Lucifer waved a hand and Dean became completely mute. 

“Why?” The devil asked, watching Sam’s every move, every squirm and blink and every emotion that flashed through his vessel’s eyes. 

“Because…I have faith that they’d figure out a way to save the world,” Sam answered, unsure why those piercing eyes made him want to speak so freely. 

“You mean you have faith that they’d save you, that _Dean_ would save you,” Lucifer corrected. 

Sam nodded. 

Lucifer looked at Dean, who was now glaring viciously at the archangel because there was nothing else he could do to reveal his exact displeasure of this discussion. He seemed to stare at Dean for several seconds, perhaps even a minute or more, but Dean refused to back down from the Devil’s stare.

“Of course, that’s if I or they don’t figure out a way to kill you first,” Sam added with a low voice. Lucifer raised his eyebrows and simply chuckled at his vessel’s audacity. With a wave of his hand the magic circles, the flames of the holy oil, and the ropes all disappeared. 

“What’re you--?” Sam asked, unable to stop himself as he helped Dean to his feet. Despite the demons having done a number on him as well, he couldn’t help but try and put himself between his older brother and the Devil.

“I told you, Sam. I’ll never lie to you, and I’ll never trick you. This I would count as a trick, despite Meg’s best intentions,” Lucifer said, motioning to the warehouse around them. “Despite this…temptation, one might say, I too have faith, Sam. You will say yes to me, and soon. Today’s just not the day.”

“I’ll never hurt Sammy,” Dean interjected, locking eyes with Lucifer. “Ever. And as long as I don’t say it and Sammy keeps his trap shut, you and your asshat of a brother are about as powerful as farts in a breeze, aren’t you? This Apocalypse is over before it’s even begun.”

Lucifer’s eyes grew hard at Dean’s colorful name for Michael—despite his own feelings for his older brother, Lucifer did not appreciate anyone else talking about him like that. 

“I know you won’t stop,” Lucifer said. “I know you won’t say yes to Michael, and I know you won’t kill Sam,” Lucifer said simply with a shrug. Dean felt his blood run cold at those words, those exact damn words Lucifer had said before, images flashing through his mind.

_Lucifer, standing in a garden in the future._

_The white suit._

_The rose._

_Sam’s mouth twisting around the Devil’s words._

“Whatever details you alter, whatever choices you make, this will always end…in Detroit,” Lucifer said, staring Dean down, the hunter gone white. 

It was the _same damn words_.

 _Zach was right…there’s nothing that we can do to change this_ , Dean realized. _Zachariah was **right** —the angels were **right** —oh, God, Sammy--_

“Your determination is admirable, Dean,” Lucifer said, ignoring the hunter’s internal crisis. “However, I only wish my brother was as honorable you are. You might have decided this war was over, but Michael was never one to take ‘no’ for an answer.” 

“What does that mean?” Sam demanded. Lucifer locked his eyes on Sam’s again, and let out a tiny sigh, like it was paining him to leave Sam behind. 

“Stay out of trouble, Sam. I’ll see you soon enough,” Lucifer said, and with a crack of thunder overhead the Devil disappeared.


	10. Useless

Someone’s fingers snapped in front of his eyes and Dean blinked, momentarily unsure what was going on. The Impala was staring at him, concern on her face. “Dean, you still in the driver’s seat?” she asked.

“Baby, are you okay?” Dean demanded when his eyes locked on the jagged metal bit embedded in her forehead. He grabbed her arms and carefully turned them in order to look at the gashes, and scraps on her jacket and exposed hands. He even cupped her head and intensely inspected the large gash over her left eye, green eyes concerned.

The human Impala waved him off. “I’m fine, Dean. Compared to that 18-wheeler, this was barely a speed bump,” she assured him. Though there was still blood on her skin and jacket, she didn’t seem hurt. She yanked out the final bit of metal from her forehead and tossed it to the ground without a flinch.

“Where the hell did he go?” Dean demanded, looking at both Castiel and Sam. Both shrugged, unsure.

“You alright, Dean?” Sam asked, noticing his brother’s color.

“Jesus Sam, we just came face to face with the _Devil_ , no I’m not exactly peachy here!” 

Dean stomped off a few feet, trying to get some air, trying to sort out his tumbled emotions and thoughts. _The angels are right_ continued to march through his mind. Lucifer’s words were exactly the same—what else from Zachariah’s vision was about to come true?

Did that mean that Michael was right? There was no other way? No other choice?

“Fine, jerk,” Sam said angrily. Turning from Dean he just looked at the angel with a baffled expression. “Cas, why wouldn’t he push me? Why’d he let us go?”

Castiel looked around the ruins of the warehouse around them. “Though I’m not completely certain, I believe Baby’s threat was true. Lucifer is prideful, egotistical—he believes he’s better than Michael. If he can get you to agree to be his vessel without any provocation, it could be seen as proof of his superiority.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking _kidding_ me,” Dean snarled angrily. “Sammy’s got the fucking _Devil_ trying to ride his ass but he won’t play dirty? And I’m the one who gets the living shit beat out of me by Michael’s stooges? Sam!” 

“What? I didn’t ask for this!” Sam said in defense. 

“Dean,” Baby said, her voice low and soothing as she stepped towards the hunter who looked ready to beat the hell out of something. “Calm down.”

Dean turned towards her, eyes hard and lips curled in a frown. “Calm down? If it wasn’t for some fucked up sense of _abstinence_ , Lucifer would’ve made Sam his bitch right here and now! And there was nothing any of us could’ve done about it!” Dean snapped. “What’s the fucking point in trying anymore, huh? Cas got super-charged and was still useless; You were just as helpful as one of Bobby’s old junkers in the back lot! The angels still call the shots and we’re just as fucked as we were before!” 

Dean stopped yelling only because he didn’t have anything else to add. The shocked look on Sam’s face didn’t compare to the betrayed looks worn by Castiel and the Impala. 

“I’m _useless_?” Castiel asked in a low, dangerous voice. Without preamble he strode forward and slugged Dean in the face. The hunter fell to the ground with a stunned expression; he was lucky Castiel had held back his strength or his head would have gone flying across the building. 

Dean’s eyes rolled around in his head and pain seemed to ricochet from everywhere. Cas grabbed the hunter’s shirt and hauled him up until their faces almost touched. Cas’s blue eyes were sharp and furious, and Dean suddenly realized he’d done a very stupid thing.

“Useless? You son-of-a-bitch,” Cas hissed. “I rebelled against Heaven for you, Dean. I killed my brothers and sisters to help and protect you. I Fell, and I did it all for you, _Dean_.” Castiel dropped Dean to the ground, fury and slight disgust on his face. 

The last thing Dean saw was two Castiels swirling around each other, a line of blood had dried as it had dripped from his split lip, and eyes livid with wrath. “Do _not_ pray to me,” the angel snarled; the usual gentle rustle of wings was replaced with loud flapping—the dust kicked up by the powerful gust of wind blinded them for several seconds even after he was long gone. 

“Cas, wait! Dammit Dean, what the hell was that?” Sam demanded angrily, shooting a disappointed glare at his brother who was only now starting to get back to his feet. “Any other of our friends you want to say ‘fuck you’ to while we’re at it? Maybe tell Bobby where he can shove that wheelchair of his?” 

“Lay off, Sham,” Dean said slowly; Castiel’s punch had made the entire side of his face numb, so his speech was slurred. 

“No, not this time. You’re circling the drain, man. What the hell is going on with you, Dean?” Sam demanded. 

“Me? What about you! Don’t ever think about shaying yesh just to save my assh, Sham! You can’t do that!” he roared in frustration.

“What, you can sacrifice yourself to save my ass but that’s only a one-way street? I’m not some kid anymore, Dean, we’re in this together whether you like it or not. What’s your problem?”

“Maybe I’m tired of being the only one who gets how bad our situation is, Sham! No one seems to get that we’re lost up shit river without a paddle or a map!” 

“So what, we give up?!” Sam shouted back. The brothers were toe-to-toe and looked as though they were about to get into a real fist fight. 

“KNOCK IT OFF!!!” Baby roared. She stepped between them, grabbed a shoulder and flung them backwards from each other. Sam and Dean stumbled at least ten feet backwards, hissing in pain—she’d almost shoved their arms right out of their sockets with the move. 

“Baby, what’re you—“

“Dammit, Baby, that hurt—“

“Shut up. Both of you. Especially you, Dean,” she said sternly. “You better pray that Cas forgives you for being cruel.” 

“How’s it my fault that he can’t stomach the truth?” Dean said in a defeated tone. “I hurt his feelings, big deal. He’ll get over it or he won’t. Doesn’t matter either way.”

Baby closed her eyes, unable to even look at the eldest Winchester. Sam looked at his brother, with his bruised face and slumped shoulders, with frustration and anger fueled by concern. Dean was giving up, and Sam wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to get his big brother out of his slump.

“Let’s go back to Bobby’s,” Sam suggested quietly, a painful plan forming in his mind. “Re-group there. Figure out our next move. Gabriel should know something by now, right?” 

Dean looked at Sam, then at Baby, and shrugged. “Whatever.” 

The brothers followed the seething Impala out of the hole she had created and into the gravel lot surrounding the warehouse. She whipped around and pointed to Sam. “You drive,” she told him, giving Dean a nasty glare. 

“I can’t even drive my own friggin’ car now?” Dean snapped. 

“Your license is suspended until further notice,” Baby coldly replied.

~*~

Despite being the middle of the night, and despite the exhaustion from the day’s events, Sam managed to make it back to Bobby’s within a few short hours. The entire ride was silent as Dean sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the window. The tension grew between them and became almost suffocating; Sam actually had to roll his window down despite the chill to try and get some fresh air. 

Dean jumped out before Sam had even fully stopped the car. Big brother was making a beeline for the garage, and the outside fridge full of beer. Sam wasn’t even sure stopping him would do anything more than get them back into the fight Baby had broken up. 

Sam was halfway to the house when he turned to watch the Impala, but no movement came from it. Apparently the day’s events had worn her out too much. Or, just as likely, she was still livid at Dean and wanted to be nowhere near him. 

Bobby only had to look at the boys once (and the fact that they came in separate doors) to know they had a fight. A big one, too, considering how carefully they tip-toed around each other. 

“How was the trip?” Bobby asked casually. Dean answered by going to the hunter’s liquor cabinet and helping himself to the whisky inside. Several shots worth, to be exact. Bobby raised his eyebrows at Sam but didn’t speak. 

“Just peachy,” Dean snapped. “We had a picnic in a flower-filled meadow and danced with unicorns while farting out Disney songs.” 

“That well, huh?” 

“Mhm.”

When Dean swallowed another shot, Bobby looked at Sam and mouthed silently _Baby and Cas?_

Sam shook his head, pointed to Dean, and made a motion of strangling his brother. It would’ve been funny if Sam didn’t look so pissed and if Dean hadn’t drank himself half-way to a coma in the past five minutes. 

“Dean, I get having a bad day, but do you really need to take it out on your liver?” Bobby asked in a joking manner. 

“If I wanna get drunk, drunk I’ll get,” Dean muttered. “Stupid friggin’ angels, fuck ‘em all!”

Sam and Bobby shared a look when Dean started to pour himself another shot, but instead drank straight from the bottle of whiskey. 

“Hey, go easy on the emergency stash,” Bobby said with a scowl. 

“What, Sam almost handing his ass to Lucifer doesn’t count?” Dean spat. 

Now Bobby was looking at Sam with wide-eyes. “Sam?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Sam said angrily. “Dammit, Dean, nothing happened, why are you—“

“Because NOTHING’S CHANGED, SAM!” Dean roared, causing both Sam and Bobby to flinch backwards. “Nothing! Not a goddamned thing has changed. The angels were right, Sam, there is no turning back. There is no magic fix-it button, there is nothing we can do to change a fucking thing.” 

Dean took another long drag of whiskey, the burn going straight to his stomach. “It’s gonna happen, Sam, tonight proved that. No matter what we do, Lucifer calls the shots. We’re fucked,” Dean said coldly. 

He started to bring the bottle to his lips again but Sam’s slapped his hand away from the bottle. 

“So what, we give up? Drink ourselves into a stupor and wait for the end?” Sam asked icily. 

“Fuck waitin’ I’d figured I take it right to ‘em,” Dean mumbled, patting his jacket and pants. “Where’s my keys?”

Bobby’s eyes grew wide. “Dean, you can’t be—“ 

Fury flashed over Sam’s face as he took a step forward and landed a punch on Dean’s face that knocked the hunter out upon impact. He crumpled to the floor with a split lip. 

“--Serious,” Bobby finished, before looking at Sam with concern. 

“I’m taking my brother to the panic room,” Sam said slowly and evenly, as though telling himself as much as Bobby. “He’s going to sleep this off, and we’ll discuss it in the morning. He doesn’t know what he was saying.”

“I think…he kind of did, Sam,” Bobby said with worry. “Dammit, Sam, what the hell happened out there?”

Sam didn’t speak. Instead he hauled his brother’s body over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and trudged downstairs. 

Dean’s eyes flickered open when he realized Sam had brought him to his room. The room was a little darker and bigger than Dean remembered, but he kicked off his boots and curled into his bed. His body stiffened when he realized, even through his alcoholic haze, that the bed wasn’t his bed. It was a tiny threadbare cot with a fan spinning around lazily overhead….

Sam gently locked the large metal panic room door in place just as Dean’s eyes jerked open in horrified realization. He stumbled out of the cot and almost tripped, but he managed to get to the door, the tiny window filled with Sam’s sad hazel eyes. 

“Sammy, what the hell’re you doin?” Dean demanded. He shook the door for good measure though there was no hope of him budging it. 

“I’m so sorry Dean. I can’t…I’m afraid, Dean.”

“Of what?”

“Of you doing something stupid. Sleep it off, Dean, I’ll be back in the morning okay?” Sam promised. He closed the window in Dean’s face and could hear his brother’s roars and damnations clearly, even through the iron vault door. Each word cut him to the quick, but he managed to climb up the stairs and close the basement door behind him without stopping or turning back. 

~*~

Bobby looked at the almost empty bottle of rotgut in front of him on his desk and contemplated having another shot. Distant angry howls and cries of “Sam!” forced him to shove the bottle away and fix a disappointed stare at Sam sitting the chair across from him. Every time Dean yelled, Sam flinched. The room was supposed to be soundproofed but they could still hear a small yell or swear once in a while. 

“Was it this bad when I detoxed?” Sam asked slowly. 

Bobby shook his head. “Worse.” 

“God, I’m so sorry.”

Bobby waved it away. “Knock it off, Sam. Please. Can we just focus on our current problems without rehashing past ones? So, you got kidnapped, and even though Lucifer was kind enough to let you go, Dean still lost his temper?”

“He basically said Castiel was useless, Baby too.” 

“Idjit,” Bobby hissed. “Does he want the world to end?”

“I don’t think he knows what he wants anymore, Bobby. You’ve seen how much he’s been drinking recently.” Sam paused and looked down, unable to look the man he thought of like a father, in the eyes. “I don’t   
trust Dean to not do something stupid, Bobby. I know him. He thinks this is all his fault, and the fate of the world depends on him. I can see it in his head, if he says yes to the angels and kills Lucifer now—“

“You won’t get the chance to go dark side,” Bobby finished. “What about the poor schmucks on the ground that get wiped out in this battle royal?”

“He told me about the place Zachariah took him to, that—endverse, where I said yes? The Croatoan virus killed off almost everyone on the planet. If half the people survive the fight, that’s a better odds than none surviving a demonic virus.”

Bobby let out a long sigh and rubbed his temples. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I thought…I thought I was doing a good enough job of keeping him focused on the silver lining. I thought that if Baby was a human again, she’d keep him from giving up. Show him that we’re not alone in this fight. Even Gabriel’s offering to help us now, too, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Dean. Too little, too late, I guess.”

Bobby reached across the desk and patted Sam’s shoulder in solidarity. “Not completely. Much as I hate to admit it, you did the right thing. Dean’s safe in there, no angel will be able to grab him, not even Michael. We’ll just have to keep him downstairs until he pulls his head out of his ass. The break from the drink will help, too.

“Let’s hope to whoever’s listenin’ that things are calmer when we wake up.”

~*~

The summoning was different than usual. It wasn’t Crowley’s magic demanding she show herself, nor was it Dean yelling for her help while he tried to fight off a horde of demons. No, this time, the voice was quiet, tentative, almost afraid of disturbing her even though she was simply parked in Bobby’s parkway. 

“Baby?” the voice asked. Quiet yet nervous, a child asking if they could come into their mother’s bedroom after a loud crack of thunder or a nightmare has woken them up in fright. 

She materialized to find Sam standing in front of her, head down and shoulders slumped, watching her with sad eyes that brightened slightly in surprise when she stepped out of the car. He was surprised she’d come. 

“Sam? What’s up?” she asked quietly. It was nighttime at the old man’s house, evident from the stars glittering unobstructed overhead. She didn’t mind the cool chill in the air at all, though Sam was wearing a thick jacket. 

Baby looked around, clearly expecting Dean to show up any minute. “I’m not talking to him right now,” she started. “And don’t go trying to fix this for him—Dean said something stupid and he needs to apologize for it.” 

“Dean’s…God, Baby, I had to lock my brother in the _panic room_ ,” Sam said quickly, saying it all at once before he lost the nerve to say it at all. He glanced up at her and she was shocked to find a tear falling from Sam’s hazel eye. 

Baby’s annoyed attitude lifted. She grabbed Sam’s hand and marched him around the corner to the small garage in the back of the house. The hunter followed her obediently, without a word. 

She motioned for him to sit on top of the table there and grabbed him a bottle of water and a beer from the fridge. When she offered both to him, Sam took the water and guzzled down half of it in one go. She put the beer back and perched on the table next to Sam. 

“Why’s Dean in the panic room?” Baby asked curiously. 

“Because…I’m afraid of him,” Sam said in a heavy sigh. “He’s…he’s going down the path we agreed couldn’t be walked down, Baby.”

“You really think he’s thinking about saying yes to being a vessel?” Baby clarified. 

“Yeah. And…God, I don’t understand! He knows if he says yes, the planet’s doomed. He knows that, yet he seems to think it’s okay because it keeps me out of the line of fire. I can’t…I can’t be the reason for all that pain, suffering. That’s why I can’t say yes. If I do, we’re fucked. But if Dean breaks, we’re fucked anyways, I don’t get why he doesn’t see that!” 

Baby put a comforting arm around Sam’s shoulders as he took another shuddering breath and waited for him to continue.

“Every night, he’s there,” Sam said with a hysterical chuckle. “Lucifer. He’s always there." 

“He’s in your dreams? Why didn’t you tell me and Cas? We could’ve--”

“You can’t do anything; this is my fight, my burden. I let him out, I have to be the one who stands strong and ends it,” Sam said. “Yet, despite the anger I feel and the resentment for my life, I can’t. I can’t agree with him, no matter how…never mind,” Sam said, suddenly wary. 

Baby rolled her eyes. “I’m not a mind-reader, Sam.” 

“No matter…how much of a chord he strikes with me,” Sam said quietly, revealing one of his greatest secrets and fears. He cast a sideways glance at the Impala but she didn’t seem perturbed by the thought. “You aren’t going to yell at me for wanting to agree with Lucifer?”

Baby shrugged. “I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re his vessel. If you didn’t get him on some level, there would be no point, right?”

Sam looked shocked, then dejected. His shoulder slumped in defeat. “You’re saying that I’m…evil?”

“Evil? Hardly. Just imperfect.”

“That’s a major imperfection, Baby!” Sam hissed, hopping off the table to stand a few feet from her. 

“Knock it off, Sam,” she said sternly, pointing to the spot where he had been sitting and giving him the eye until he moodily sat back down next to her. “You and Dean are so twisted around you can’t even see straight. The angels are making Dean focus on this vessel business and have kept him from seeing you, Sam, his little brother, and all the parts that make you up as a whole. So you’ve got a bad wire, big deal. Do you think Dean thinks less of me because I have one mismatched tire?”

Sam arched an eyebrow. “One of your tires doesn’t match?”

“See!” Baby said. “You didn’t notice, did you? Do you think any less of me? Course not! After the incident with the 18-wheeler, Dean tried to get a matching set of original tires for me. He could only find 3 even with Bobby’s help, and had to settle on the last tire from a 68 Chevy something or other. It drove him nuts to see me with mismatched tires but you know what? The second I was back on the road do you think he honestly cared after that?”

“Baby, this is bigger than a tire. A tire can be replaced. I can’t replace the fact that I’m Lucifer’s vessel, the _Devil’s_ vessel.”

“Yes, Sam, I get it, you’re the dick’s vessel. But you know what else? You’re Sam Winchester. You kill monsters, fell in love with a werewolf, hate clowns, love your family, and secretly adore me,” she said, counting off on her fingers. She gave him a wink. “I remember all those car washes when Dean was away in Hell. What was it, every Monday you’d take me through a car wash while we traveled?”

Sam’s face blushed slightly. “I promised I’d take care of you.” 

“Do you think Lucifer would do that? No, I’d bet gas money he wouldn’t. Lucifer is a dick, Sam, you’re not. That’s like saying because Dean is an asshole sometimes you’re one too because you’re related.”

“What’s the point of all this?” Sam asked, feeling like the car was rambling. 

“My point is, don’t let one aspect of you define who you are. You and Dean have freedom of will, to choose what you do. Give in, don’t give in, you get to pick in the end. The angels don’t have that, right? So, choose on your own.” 

“That’s not going to stop Dean,’ Sam said. “He’ll still do it…even if he takes the world with him.”

“Dean’s your big brother, and you love him,” Baby said when Sam stayed quiet for a moment. She didn’t say anything about the tears that were leaking down the hunter’s face when he realized just how close he was to his breaking point. 

“While Dean was trying to grown up to be like John, you were growing up trying to be like Dean,” she said in a soothing voice. “It’s painful to follow someone like that so closely, and then watch them take a turn down a road you know you can’t follow. I agree, Dean’s being selfish. His whole life he’s protected you, Sam, and he seems to be so convinced you’ll say yes that he’d rather do it first so he doesn’t have to watch you take the fall.”

“Sam, you’re strong, got it? You’re smart and powerful and every bit an equal to Dean. You’re not a little kid anymore. I think Dean’s afraid because he’s realizing that and he can’t stop you from making your own decisions, including bad ones. 

“I know it must be tough with that angelic bastard whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but I know you won’t let him in. And now that we’re catching onto Dean, we won’t let him get out.” 

Baby took Sam’s face and pulled his chin so they were looking at each other. “Sam Winchester, you’re one strong son of a bitch. But you don’t have to carry this on your own, and neither does Dean. You’ve got me, Cas, and Bobby all behind you. Even when you’re at each other’s throats, I’ll be there for you both. Not like I can get away, considering I’m the car,” she said with a lop-sided grin. 

Sam let out a chuckle, and Baby could see the tension in his shoulders start to ease up. He dragged his sleeve over his eyes so his final tears didn’t freeze his eyes closed. “Thank you. I just—“

“Needed a non-judgmental sounding board? You’re welcome.” 

Sam’s glanced at the house and let out another long sigh. “God, I can’t go in there right now. Bobby’s got most of the room soundproofed but I could still hear Dean screaming for me. I was just…the alcohol. He’s been drinking so much recently and…it sounded like he might try to drive to parts unknown and give himself up,” Sam said. 

Baby nodded. “Sounds like a very Dean thing to do. Well, you can’t stay out here all night.”

Sam cast a sideways glance at her. “Would you mind…if I slept in your backseat?”

Baby shrugged and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Nope. Just grab some blankets and pillows, I’m not listening to you complain about my seats being ‘hell on the lower lumbar’.” 

“Great. Thank you, again,” Sam said sincerely as he reached around and gave her a hug that could have broken a normal human in half, but she merely smiled. “Have I mentioned how glad I am Crowley managed to bring you back?” 

“Nope. Looking after you boys is a thankless job, but I’m happy to oblige.”

“Well, I mean it. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Sammy.”


	11. Party Carsher

Crowley wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when it came to crashing a pagan end-of-the-world meeting, but he was _pretty sure_ something was amiss. The 5-star hotel he had tracked Loki to was in shambles: walls had collapsed and part of the ceiling had caved in. Screams and otherworldly noises filled the air as Crowley silently walked through what had been a very modern foyer. Broken shards of glass covered the room and metal fixtures were bent like over-used bread-ties. 

Then there were the bodies. Pagan gods and goddesses were littered around the places, broken and bleeding, some even in multiple pieces. A giant elephant with a hole in its chest had fallen through a wall, while the remains of a giant wolf had been tossed like a broken rag-doll across a room. 

Crowley was pretty sure this was not the aftermath of a pagan celebratory dinner. Least, he hoped not. 

The demon ducked into a fairly untouched room when the ground under him shook violently and another wall seemed to collapse somewhere on the premises. He stood for a moment, frozen and slightly unsure what to do, when the wall behind him exploded into a cloud of dust and hunks of stone. Crowley fell to his knees to protect himself as a body smacked into the ground next to him. Even covered in blood and plaster, Crowley recognized those golden eyes, even as they rolled back in pain. 

“Loki!” Crowley hissed. He glanced backwards through the hole the thrown pagan had created and didn’t even have to see the silhouette back there to know who was tearing through the pagans like a hot katana through tissue paper. Just his presence was enough to make Crowley’s knees shake and his blood thicken in terror. 

“ _Lucifer is here?!_ ” Crowley whispered angrily. 

“I didn’t invite ‘im,” Loki mumbled half-consciously. “Dick bag,” he murmured. Loki’s eyes stopped swimming for a moment and he looked at Crowley, really looked at him for the first time. “Why the _fuck_ are _you_ here?!” Loki demanded. 

“Not exactly a relevant question at the moment, is it? Looks like I came at a bad time, Loki. I’ll just let you sort this out,” the demon said and was instantly gone. 

Crowley stopped about a mile away, the hotel the only sign of civilization along the empty stretch of highway. The darkness of the night did well to hide the slow destruction of the building from the inside out. The rain continued to pour from the unnatural storm system that was currently swirling overhead, leaving everything soaked except for the demon. 

He knew he needed to keep running. Back to Australia and his little safe haven in the jungle, as far from Lucifer’s reaches as he could possibly get. That was the best plan, the best option for long-term survival. After the Colt incident he was on the boss’ Eternal Torment List, and that was not something Crowley wanted to remind Lucifer of. And yet…

Crowley looked at the crumbling structure and could see the cracks appear in the outside walls as _something_ was thrown about inside. Of all the stupid, ridiculous things he had known Loki to do over the decades; this had to have been the stupidest of them all. 

“Why in the bloody hell did you think you could take on _Lucifer_ and _win_ , moron!” Crowley roared in frustration. 

Every single evil, self-centered cell in Crowley’s body screamed for him to run away. And yet here he was, honestly unable to convince his feet of that. He stood rooted for a moment, debating with himself. Survival in one hand, Loki’s bloody form in the other. 

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” Crowley snapped as he paced outside. Rolling his eyes and muttering “I’m only going to live long enough to regret this,” he put two fingers in the side of his mouth and let out the loudest and longest whistle of his life. 

After waiting in the pouring rain for forever (in reality about thirty seconds) there was the loud pounding of foot falls on the gravel behind Crowley. The falling rain dripped from an invisible form and steam rose from the paw prints on the wet asphalt. Crowley patted the hellhound’s side. 

“Took you long enough, you great mutt!” Crowley said, and the hound barked with excitement. He pointed to the hotel just as another part of the wall crumbled to the ground. If Loki was still alive, he wouldn’t be for much longer. 

“Remember Loki? The great pain-in-the-neck who likes to give you those damned rubber balls that make awful porno noises when you chew on them?”

The hellhound growled an affirmative. Those were his favorite toys.

“Well, he’s gone and jumped into the fire. And, much as I hate to say this, it’s up to us to fish ‘im out. Time to work, darling,” Crowley cooed, and they disappeared back into the crumbling structure.  
It was much easier to find Loki the second time around considering Lucifer had basically knocked down every wall within the building while using Loki’s limp form as a wrecking ball. He was unconscious and covered in a pile of rubble when Lucifer snatched the pagan up and held him aloft with a single hand; blood, sweat and plaster fell from the pagan to the dust-covered floor. 

“Don’t make me do this,” Lucifer told the pagan hanging limply from his hand. 

Crowley and Growly were invisible in the corner, watching and waiting for the exact moment to strike. Crowley had his hand threaded through the hellhound’s chain collar, keeping the great brute still so Lucifer wouldn’t notice them. Crowley focused all of his energy on keeping his pet quiet so he didn’t have any left over to think about how stupid he was about to be. 

“Make you, what?” Loki huffed, one eye squinting down at Lucifer’s pleading face. “I didn’t—cough, cough— _make_ you throw me through a dozen walls.”

“Despite your antics this fight will happen,” Lucifer said quietly, as though he didn’t really like the idea himself. 

“You’d think I would’ve learned that eons ago, huh?” Loki said with a pained, rueful chuckle. 

“Just like Michael, aren’t you? A disloyal meddler—“

“Hey, the last things I ever hear shouldn’t be you comparing me to that _dick_ ,” Loki snapped. “I’m not disloyal, either. I’m loyal to them because they deserve it. They try, Lucifer, can’t you see that? Sometimes it doesn’t work and yeah, there’s plenty of bad apples, but most of them try to do better, to be better. Can’t you?” Loki asked, pleading just a little. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer said after a moment’s pause, and from his shirt sleeve an angel’s blade dropped into his free hand. He jerked the blade upwards, going right for the pagan’s heart—

Something large and invisible crashed into Lucifer with such force that he was thrown through one of the few still-standing walls. Loki fell to the ground with a pained yelp, clutching his side and moaning loudly. 

Someone roughly grabbed Loki’s hand and pulled it around his shoulder in order to help the pagan stand. 

Loki opened an eye to see a red-faced Crowley attempting to get him to his feet. “Crow--?”

“Not a word,” the demon hissed. “You moronic charlatan. Those damnable Winchesters seemed to have rubbed off on me,” the demon muttered to himself. 

Hellhound howls and snarls came from the other room—seemed like Growly was enjoying harassing the Devil, if Lucifer’s colorful swearing was any indication. Thunder cracked overhead and the ground shook beneath them—Lucifer’s agitation was going to either split open the earth or sky, and Crowley did not want to be around for that.

“Tap your heels and think of home,” Crowley said to Loki as they and Growly disappeared. 

~*~

Loki gasped in pain when he was unceremoniously dumped on the couch of Crowley’s jungle hideout. He tried to curl up but the pain in his back and side was too great for him to move much. It seemed Lucifer had done a hell of a number on him. 

“So, I know they say when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but I was not expecting your devilish visage to be the last thing I saw,” Loki said, his cheeky demeanor dulled by pain and dizziness.

“Guess some people are born lucky,” Crowley retorted.

“Depends on if seeing you is a blessing or a curse, honestly.”

Crowley leaned down and narrowed his hard eyes at the pagan. “Shut. Up. _For once_. I wasn’t about to let you die without you telling me who, _exactly_ , you are.”

“Someone’s death bed is not the best time for twenty questions,” Loki said, but the look on Crowley’s face told him the joke wasn’t terribly funny. 

“I just flashed my ass to Lucifer and told him to kiss it. The least you can do is tell me exactly whom I just signed my death warrant for? I know you’re an angel, I just want a name.”

Loki didn’t have a biting response. Instead he closed his eyes and moaned again as another wave of pain seemed to wash over him. “Gabriel.”

“Bullshit,” was Crowley’s instant response.

“Lucifer’s my big dick of a brother, just like Michael and Raphael. What, you couldn’t see the family resemblance?”

“You’re telling me I’ve been bickering with an _Archangel_ for the better part of a century? And I’m not _dead_?” This last part seemed to surprise the demon more than anything. 

“You grew on me,” Gabriel said simply. 

“Loki—Gabriel—you’re _terrible_ at your job!” Crowley said in exasperation. 

“Not my job anymore. I left the smiting back home with halo in Heaven. My job’s to teach smug assholes to behave themselves, which to be fair, you have been on the receiving end of that for years. Besides, you’re interesting, and not really evil. Not Lilith or Alastair or Azazel evil, anyway.”

“This is too much,” Crowley said and he stomped off across the room. 

“Crowley, I kinda get you’re having a bit of an existential ‘I’m bosom-mates with an Archangel’ moment, here, but we’ve got bigger problems right now.”

Crowley whipped around, mouth open with a smart-ass remark, but it clicked shut when he realized how pale Loki—Gabriel was, which was saying something. 

“What now?” Crowley snapped.

With another pained hiss, Gabriel pulled back his left hand, which had been clamped to the side of his stomach the whole time. Not only was red blood pouring from the wound, but golden light was also leaking out. 

Crowley hissed and unconsciously turned from the light, like a vampire hiding from daylight. Gabriel covered the wound again and Crowley was able to give him an angry stare. “What in the hell was—“

“Grace,” Gabriel said with a cough. “I’m bleeding out. Big brother might have missed my heart, but he still hit the mark. I’m dying, Crow.”

“You’ve got to be kidding! I actually deny all my demonic instincts to save your stupid ass and you’re telling me it was for naught?!”

“Not naught. You gotta get me to the Winchesters, Crowley. Please. They can stop this war. They can stop Lucifer. I know how—take me to them, please.” 

Crowley seemed to debate with himself for a moment but he let out a loud, aggravated sigh and strode back to the dying archangel in question. Now he could see that most of Gabriel’s jacket and pants were stained with blood, and he was becoming deathly pale. He tried not to let the image shake his nonchalant attitude. 

Crowley knelt down and placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, about to zap them away, when he gave the angel a hard stare. “You lied, earlier, by the way.”  
“About—what?” Gabriel panted. 

“This place is a _terrible_ hideout. No internet, thus no email. No T.V., thus no CNN or Glenn Beck. How’s a demonic businessman supposed to keep up with his workload out here in this backwoods black hole?”

Gabriel squinted at Crowley. “Is that why you came to the meeting? You were _bored_?”

“I tried to teach a funnel-web spider a tap-dancing routine. At least crashing your meeting was the last place on my list.”

Gabriel coughed and moaned as more blood and light seeped from the gaping wound in his side. “Did it work?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I may be King of the Crossroads, but even _I_ can’t work miracles!”


	12. Sacrifice

Dean’s back was stiff, his throat was raspy and sore, and his hands hurt. He groaned when he tried to move and found himself sitting up against the door of the panic room, the metal door and the concrete underneath him, pain shooting through his entire body. Dean blinked several times and, yep, he was definitely in the panic room. He groaned again as he got to his feet and assessed the various aches and pains he was suffering, memories from the previous night flashing through his mind in a disjointed fashion. 

His throat was raw from yelling half the night; his hands hurt from pounding the metal door. His face stung from Castiel’s sucker punch and never mind the myriad of injuries the demons had inflicted upon him just to piss him off while tying him and Sam together. The headache pounded between his eyes and his brain felt fuzzy. 

Dean was still pissed, royally so, but his morose guilt over driving away Cas and Baby was eating him up worse than the pain he was feeling. _Driving away everyone you ever loved—typical Dean thing to do_ , he thought darkly to himself. 

A muted shuffle came from the other side of the metal door. He got up to the door and said loudly, “Sam, open up man. I gotta take a piss, and some pain meds would be great.” 

Silence reigned for several seconds but then the sound of the metal latch being undone echoed throughout the room. The door swung open and Sam was there; he tried to look casual but Dean could tell Sam was upset. 

“Is it time for my hour in the yard, warden?” Dean said, the joke falling flat since he muttered it sarcastically and Sam simply sighed. 

“There’s coffee and eggs upstairs,” Sam said. He made Dean go first up the stairs. After a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve himself and clean up, he found Bobby was in the kitchen eating. 

“Morning princess,” Bobby said. “Sleep well?”

“Cut the crap,” Dean snapped at both of them. He crossed his arms over his chest at glared at the two hunters. “Someone want to fill me in on why the fuck I spent the night in the frigging panic room?”

“Dean,” Sam started. “Do you remember what you said to Baby, and Cas?”

“…Yeah,” he said after a moment, but the only thing he really remembered was Castiel’s betrayed expression followed by his fist and Sam driving the Impala home. Everything else was a blur. 

“Then you can probably figure out that I was worried you were going to do something stupid.”

“Like what?” Dean demanded. 

“Like ‘agree to be Michael’s vessel’ stupid,” Bobby answered. 

“I lose my temper and that earns me a night in Hotel Panic Room?” Dean scoffed. “Sorry I can’t just pretend everything is going to be okay if I believe it hard enough,” he said, staring at Sam as he did so. 

“You basically said as much, Dean,” Sam snapped. 

Dean thought about it and he did remember that part. He didn’t feel guilty for it, though. “You sucker-punched me, bitch!” 

“You were about to give yourself up to Michael, jerk!”

“Shut both of yer traps,” Bobby said in a huff. “Are you going to apologize to Castiel and the Impala?” he asked. 

“Why, because I said the truth?” 

Sam tossed his arms up in the air. “You’re hopeless, Dean!”

A powerful flapping of wings suddenly whipped in from the study, causing everyone to turn to see Castiel, but with some unusual luggage with him. Slung over his shoulder was the body of an unconscious man, whom he flopped onto the couch as carefully as he could manage. 

The angel turned about and made it a point to look at Bobby and Sam but not Dean, who was watching the angel with sullen eyes. 

“I’m only here because of him,” Cas said slowly and pointed to the unconscious man, flashing his eyes angrily at Dean. The angel didn’t move, though, he simply stared with accusing eyes at Dean until the hunter glanced away, unable to handle that look of heart-broken frustration Castiel was wearing because of him.

“Who the hell’s gettin’ dirt all over my couch, Cas?” Bobby asked, peering curiously at the young man who was, indeed, covered from head to toe in black dirt. Almost like he’d crawled out of the ground or something…

“Oh, God, Dean,” Sam said in slight horror, pointing to the young man on the couch. Dean had to stare for a few seconds at the face, the short brown hair, until his heart plummeted into his toes. 

“ _Adam?_ ” Dean hissed in surprise. He whipped around to Castiel and snarled. “What did you _do_ , Cas?” 

“Wait, Adam, as in your _dead brother_ Adam?” Bobby asked for clarification, looking just as shocked as the Winchesters. 

“The angels…he was resurrected,” Castiel explained, straightening up. “I felt the Raising, and upon further investigation I found him, surrounded by a dozen angelic escorts. I fought them off and spirited him here, to safety.”

“Why in the hell would angels resurrect Adam?” Sam asked. “What would they gain from this?”

“They get a vessel, that’s what,” Dean spat out angrily as the dots connected in his mind.

“Come again?” Bobby asked.

Castiel nodded, now seeing the logic in Dean’s thinking. “Adam may be your half-brother, but he’s still John Winchester’s son. Which means he’s still an Archangel’s vessel. Michael must’ve moved on from you.”

“Moved on from me? He can’t just do that!” Dean snarled. 

Castiel motioned towards the couch with an obvious _Well he did_ expression on his face. 

“They resurrected Adam so Michael would have a chance at killing Lucifer…” Sam said, suddenly starting to pace as he tried to think. He stopped and gave them a horrified look. “Remember what Lucifer said? About Michael not being honorable? He _knew_ Michael was going to do this, and he tried to warn us.”

Dean threw his hands in the air and stomped out of the study into the kitchen. “This isn’t happening.” He whipped around and pointed angrily at Adam’s unconscious form. “I will not let this happen! It’s bad enough Sam is being hounded by the friggin’ Devil night and day, but this? They can’t even let our dead brother rest in fucking peace? This poor bastard has already died once because of us, because of Dad! I won’t let it happen again, I can’t. This isn’t his fight,” Dean shouted, anger making his face flush red. 

“It’s everyone’s fight, Dean!” Castiel said angrily, finally speaking to the Winchester directly. “This entire world is at stake. We’re just lucky that I found him; if the angels had taken him, there would be no stopping the archangels from laying waste to the _entire planet_ ,” Castiel articulated, watching Dean squirm uncomfortably as he spoke.

With that said Castiel strode forward and placed his hand on Adam’s chest, the pain from the Enochian sigils being carved into his chest waking him from his resurrected slumber. Adam gasped loudly in pain, and tried to crawl backwards away from the strangers surrounding him. 

“Who the hell are you people? Where am I? Where the hell is Zachariah?” the youngest Winchester demanded.

~*~

Adam refused to talk to them for the longest time when he realized they weren’t angels and had no intention of taking him to “that flying dick,” as Dean colorfully put it. He simply curled up on the couch and eyed them with the same wariness that a wounded gazelle had as it eyed a pack of circling hyenas. 

Bobby seemed to make progress with the youngest Winchester when he suggested he take a nice hot shower and get into a clean set of clothes ‘you weren’t buried in.’ 

The shower and the clean clothes (donated by Dean after some grumbling) seemed to help tremendously—Adam was now sitting on the couch, watched by Sam, Dean, Bobby, and Castiel, but he didn’t seem nervous around them anymore. 

“Alright, I get that you won’t take me to Zachariah; you mind telling me who at least kidnapped me?” Adam asked stonily. 

“Kidnapped? Cas saved your ass!” Dean said with a huff. 

Adam looked at the angel who was watching him intently. “Cas, as in Castiel? So, that would make you two Sam and Dean. The angels warned me about you two.”

Sam’s eyebrows perked up. “Warned you about us?”

“Yeah. You two are my older half-brothers that I didn’t know I had. You apparently brought about the End of Days and now refuse to do anything about it; oh, and apparently you have a gay thing for each other.” Adam fixed a hard stare at his brothers after speaking the last part. 

Dean blinked once and then looked at Sam, whose cheeks were bright red despite the slack-jawed look he was wearing. “You know, Sammy, I’ve been wanting to kick Zachariah’s ass for quite a while now, but that? That little comment just earned him the top spot on my Supernatural Hit List.” 

“No, no, no! We’re not—we aren’t—Zachariah’s a _dick_ ,” Sam said, laughing awkwardly. 

“Right,” was all Adam said while giving them an incredulous _I wasn’t born_ yesterday look. 

“Zach’s antics aside,” Bobby said, steering the conversation to safer waters. “Do you know why you’re here, what’s going on?”

“Yeah, just like I said. You two started this but won’t end it. Michael needs a vessel to stop Lucifer, and Dean won’t play nice. Since I’m your brother they offered me the job.”

“And you said yes?” Dean finished. 

“What else would I say? It’s the Devil running around out here. Why is this even an issue?” Adam asked. 

“Did they tell you what would happen if Dean said yes and the archangels fought? Did they tell you that half the planet would be roasted in the fight?” Sam asked pointedly. 

Adam fixed a hard stare at Sam. “They said there would be causalities, but considering it’s the _Devil_ , a few killed is better than all killed, right?”

“No!” Sam snapped, getting to his feet in anger and pacing through the study. “Look, Adam, this isn’t the answer. Giving the angels what they want is not the answer,” Sam said slowly, giving both Adam and Dean hard looks as he spoke. “There’s another way.”

“Like what?” Adam asked. 

“We’re working on the power of love,” Dean replied. 

“And how’s that going for you?” 

“Terribly.”

“Figured as much,” Adam said. He stood up from the couch and brushed off his shoulder, unable to shake the phantom feeling of dirt still stuck to his clothes. “Well, as enlightening as this has been, I have an appointment to keep.”

He made to walk out, but Castiel simply stood in his way, eyes narrowed with laser focus. “Let me out,” Adam demanded, but Castiel simply stared at him. 

“Look, Adam,” Sam started, voice quiet as he pleaded with his half-brother. “I know you don’t know us. I know you don’t know me from a hole in the wall, but please. Give me some time to figure out something else.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re blood,” Sam said simply, placing all bets on the family card.

Adam turned slowly and gave Sam a narrow-eyed stare. “Blood? John Winchester was a guy who showed up on a birthday once a year and took me to a baseball game. My family is my Mom; she raised me by herself, it was just the two of us. Don’t try that ‘family’ bull on me.”

“If we knew you were alive—“ Dean started. 

“We would’ve found you, Adam,” Sam finished. 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Adam said bitterly, both Sam and Dean jerked as though struck. “I probably would’ve have lived half as long as I did. It’s because of my relation to you that I died. Eaten alive by a monster pissed off and wanting revenge against a Dad I barely knew.” 

“You…remember that?” Dean asked, grimacing. 

“Oh yeah. Not something you forget.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said in a dejected tone. 

“Don’t waste your breath. You want to help me? Let me go or suck it up and deal with the mess you’ve made,” Adam said. 

Sam opened his mouth to speak further when a loud bang erupted behind Adam and Bobby cursed in surprise. Sam whipped around, hand already reaching for the knife in his belt when his jaw fell open in surprise. 

“What the fu—“

“Howdy boys,” Crowley said smartly. The demon was in doorway between the kitchen and the study. He was supporting a limp Gabriel who was paler than a reaper and had blood staining most of his jacket and pants. His left hand was clamped tightly to his left side and Sam could see the blood leaking from between his fingers, as well as…golden light? 

“A little assistance would be great. This great lummox is heavier than he looks,” Crowley panted slightly, his usually smug façade replaced with barely contained panic. 

~*~

“What the friggin’ hell happened?” Dean snapped as he and Sam automatically dove forward to help walk the wounded trickster to Bobby’s empty couch.

Gabriel let out a hiss of pain as he was laid down as gently as possible. “Fuck that smarts,” was all he could say between clenched teeth. 

“Gabriel! Who did this--?” Castiel asked, stepping forward with eyes widened in surprise and panic. He didn’t need to see the real wound under the blood-stained hand to know how bad it was, how truly close to death his brother was. 

Dean, Sam, Castiel, Crowley and Bobby surrounded the couch, but Bobby kept his eyes on Adam just in case the kid tried to sneak out amidst the chaos. His fears were unfounded when Adam actually pushed through the group to get a better look at Gabriel. 

Everyone was talking loudly and it wasn’t until Bobby let out an ear-piercing whistle that calm was restored. “Start talking,” the hunter demanded of Crowley and Gabriel. 

“Lucifer,” Gabriel managed. “Let’s just say the pagan meeting didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. Someone—ow, dammit—got the brilliant idea to actually _invite_ the archangel in question and try to work things out.”

“…The pagans?” Sam asked. 

“Dead. I happened to stumble across the aftermath right as Gabriel here was about to bite the dust,” Crowley interjected. Sam and Dean shared a look when Crowley said the name and wasn’t freaking out, but they didn’t have long to get hung up on that small detail.

“Gabriel! You should have come sooner, I can—“ Castiel managed to say, extending his arm out to heal the angel but Gabriel roared so powerfully it forced Castiel backwards. 

“STAY AWAY!!” Gabriel said, his voice cracking like thunder as he used his True Voice; all the humans had to duck their heads and cover their ears. The show took its toll on him, for Gabriel fell back onto the couch looking worse than before. 

“Why not let him heal you?” Dean demanded, straightening back up but still able to hear the uncomfortable ringing in his ears. Castiel looked so crestfallen that Dean couldn’t help but jump to his defense, even if they were fighting themselves. 

“This cut was made by Lucifer,” Gabriel hissed. “Angel blades destroy Grace, usually causing a big boom that decimates everything around it. He only nicked me though; instead of exploding I’m just bleeding out very slowly.”

“Then there’s still time to save you! Let us help!” Sam pleaded. 

“That’s my Grace in Cas. If he tries to heal me with it, it’ll just drain out like all the rest. Once I’m out of Grace this body is dead, and so am I.” Gabriel spoke without panic in his voice, but steely calm. The voice of someone who had accepted their fate. “You chuckleheads need to listen up, alright? Without me there’s no way you can kill Lucifer without involving Michael. However, there is a way to trap him.”

“How?” Sam demanded. 

“Remember the Cage you sprang Lucifer from? It’s still down in Hell; all you have to do is open the lock and shove big brother’s ass back inside. It’ll be so easy a caveman can do it,” Gabriel joked. He ended up coughing and blood spurted from his side between his fingers. 

“What prevents Lucifer from springing the Cage again?” Sam asked. “Or the angels, or demons?”

“Lilith. Without her, the Cage won’t open again. We just have to get big bro back inside.”

“Well, there’s the problem, right?” Dean asked. “She’s been ganked already, how do we open the cage without her?”

“Just have to get the keys to the Cage,” Gabriel said. He swept his arm out around him. “And they’re out here, somewhere.”

“They? There’s multiple keys?” Bobby asked. He sighed. “ ‘Course there’s multiple keys, nothing’s ever that simple.”

Gabriel nodded. “The four rings from the Four Horsemen are the keys.”

Dean furrowed his brow and dug around the inside pocket of his jeans, pulling out a gold, nondescript ring and a silver ring with a black stone. “This is War’s and Famine’s,” he said. 

“You just have to find Pestilence and Death, get their rings, and then shove Lucifer back inside. Easy, right?” Gabriel said with false bravado. He didn’t have to tell them what a huge trial this was going to be, even with half the rings already in their possession.

“Hear that guys?” Sam said to Dean and Adam, who had been watching the procession with morbid curiosity. “We still have a chance at defeating Lucifer without the planet getting destroyed or—“

“One of us becoming an angel condom,” Dean finished. 

“So, that’s it? Find the remaining horsemen, pickpocket their jewelry, and its Apocalypse averted?” Adam asked. “If it was that easy, why haven’t the angels done it? Why am I even here?”

Gabriel looked at Adam, then Dean, then back to Sam. “Who’s the new kiddo?” Gabriel asked slowly. 

“Right, um, Gabriel, this is Adam, our younger brother,” Sam said. 

Gabriel arched an eyebrow, but his eyes blinked slowly and were glazed over. “Wow, that sounds like a bad joke, doesn’t it? ‘How many Winchesters does it take to stop the Apocalypse?’ Hahahahaha—wow, that’s not even that funny. Ugh, blood loss makes everything seem funnier. Dammit, this slowly dying shit sucks.”

“Trust me, Lo--Gabriel, it’s as much a pain for the rest of us,” Crowley said smartly. 

“Wait, why haven’t I ever met him before?” Gabriel suddenly asked, eyeing Adam with honey eyes sharp and focused. “You two are the poster children for over-dependent siblings.”

“Recently resurrected, F.Y.I. I just met them,” Adam said. “I got recruited for a job that Dean wouldn’t take.”

Gabriel’s eyes hardened. “Michael, you son of a bitch,” Gabriel swore. “He couldn’t even play fair on the Apocalypse? What an _ass_.

“Look, kiddo, these guys are, for the most part, the good guys, alright?” Gabriel said as he motioned weakly to Sam and Dean. “They’re the most golden-hearted monster killers I’ve met. Do the world a favor and don’t give up, any of you. And if you do I will find a way to haunt your stupid ass for all eternity if you let me die and don’t let my sacrifice mean something.” 

“Find the Horsemen, get the rings, trap Lucifer. You’ve got your homework, kids. Castiel, a word?”

Castiel walked forward slowly, his eyes were downcast, and he made sure to stop out of arm’s reach from his dying brother. He clenched his teeth, the temptation to heal his brother almost overwhelming. 

_There’s no point, Castiel_ Gabriel’s voice said in a teasing tone in his mind. The fact that he didn’t use a nickname revealed how serious Gabriel now was. _The Grace would just bleed out and you’d be left powerless. At least this way you can keep the Winchesters from doing too many stupid things._

_Why did you do it? You could’ve gotten away, warned us quicker._

_made my choice, Castiel. I stood with you, with those idiot brothers and even with that ridiculously smug demon who’s been a pain in my ass since day one. Make sure Dean or Sam don’t do anything stupid, little brother, no matter what it takes. Friendships can survive turbulence, but nothing will survive the end if Dean agrees to be Michael’s ‘angel condom’ or Sam for Lucifer._

_I promise, Gabriel._

…

_I visited the platypuses. They are—perfect._

_Glad to know I’m capable to doing something right. See you on the other side, little brother._

_You as well... brother._


	13. New Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, Happy Halloween, readers! Hope it’s a fun and spooky holiday for all participating in any festivities. To all my readers who’ve kept up with this series, thank you so much for your views! 
> 
> We’re in the home stretch, chapter 15 is the end! I know, the end of a good fic is always bittersweet.

Unlike the usual aftermath of an angel’s death, Gabriel’s was quiet and subtle. One minute he was there, eyes glazed over and breathing slowly; the next he was gone. Faded away into nothingness. 

“I can’t believe it,” Crowley said, the first to speak. He looked at the Winchesters (who were looking quite shaken) and Castiel, who looked about two seconds from breaking something. “That bastard actually went and _died_ on us.” Crowley sounded legitimately shocked. 

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” Bobby rumbled, feeling he had to say something before the shocked silence swallowed them whole. 

“He made his choice,” Castiel said, voice breaking at first but becoming stronger in the end. He turned away from the empty couch and back to the gathered assemblage. Though Castiel’s blue eyes met everyone’s, it was Dean’s that they locked on. “What will yours be?”

Dean looked at the couch, then back to Castiel—he didn’t have to see tears or hear wails of despair to know the angel was grieving. The heartbroken look in his eyes told Dean all that and more. 

“He wouldn’t just…do this as a joke, right? Give us some hope only to take it away later?” Dean asked slowly, quietly. 

“Gabriel kept himself alive long enough to tell us about this plan. This will not be easy, but it can be done.” _What will you do, Dean?_

Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly. “Give me a couple minutes, I need some fresh air,” was all the eldest Winchester said. He stalked through the house and out the front door without a word or a look at anyone else. It was all too much—Adam being alive, Gabriel now dead, it was like the universe was falling apart around him. 

Luckily no one followed him outside. He jumped down the steps and it wasn’t until his eyes darted all over the driveway that he realized why no one had followed him. 

“Baby!” Dean called out. “Where the hell are you?”

“What, come to insult me again?” her voice called out from the open garage. Dean walked around the side of the house to find her lying on the picnic table. 

“I thought you were resting. Why aren’t you in car mode?”

Baby sat up slowly and narrowed her eyes at Dean. “Sam came out and warned me that you might try to do something stupid.”

“Like give myself to Michael stupid or sleep with a girl without protection stupid?”

 

“There’s a difference?”  
That forced an awkward cough from the hunter. He rubbed the back of his neck slowly. “You know, if I hadn’t been as hammered as I was, I might have managed it.” _Sam is too smart for his own good sometimes._

“Haven’t you figured out that this is a _terrible_ plan?” she demanded, pushing herself off the table to stand in front of him. 

Dean held his hands up. “Look, I already got the speech a few dozen times by now. There’s been some developments and I want you inside to hear them.”

“Developments? Like what?”

~*~

Baby stormed inside and only paused long enough in the doorway to find Adam. “Adam!” she said with excitement and moved so quickly the boy couldn’t dodge her rib-cracking hug. 

“Who the hell are you?” said Adam, breaking her grip and stumbling away.

Baby chuckled. “You don’t remember me? John and I made the trip to see you about once a year to see you! I would’ve loved to see you more often, of course, but things had a habit of coming up.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He cast Sam and Dean a tentative _save me from this crazy lady!_ Look but they ignored it for the moment.

“Lady, no offense, but those few times John _did_ see me, he was alone.”

“Hardly! Remember that beauty of a car he liked to drive?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, the Impala. Not much of a car guy but I could see why he liked it so much.”

Baby motioned to herself and smiled at Adam. “Tada,” she said with a grin. When he continued to look at her in confusion, she tilted his head to the side just like Castiel and Bobby did before recognizing her. “How about now?”

“Look, lady, I don’t know you. Alright?” Adam snapped. “You’re confusing me with someone else.” 

The Impala’s chrome eyes became downcast and her smile dropped into a frown as she became sullen. Dean noticed the change and tried not to snap at the young man. 

“Well, Adam, since today seems to be the day for curveballs, here’s another one for you. That’s the Impala. A spell’s been cast on her to make her a human,” Dean explained. 

“Much as this family drama is touching, it’s also wasting what precious little time Gabriel’s antics managed to buy for us,” Crowley interrupted. 

“For once, I agree with the demon,” Castiel said simply. “Dean, what’s your choice?”

Dean sighed, his stomach curling up in knots as he felt the eyes of everyone around him stare intently at him. “Gabriel was a dick and a jerk…but, he tried. I guess the only thing we can do is the same. We only need Pestilence and Death, right? I say let’s do it.” 

Castiel’s eyes softened slightly. He could practically see what was happening in Dean’s mind. Dean had been standing at the edge of a tall cliff, and at the bottom was the Dark Thought, pulling him into its embrace. But Dean Winchester was stronger than that. He stepped away from the edge. The angel almost let out a sigh of relief. 

“Wait, so that’s it? You’re running away from your responsibility _again_?” Adam asked in a pointed fashion. 

“Look, there isn’t much love lost between us and Gabriel. Bastard tried to kill us more times (and succeeded) more times than anyone else. But, he did manage to stay alive long enough to tell us about the rings and the Cage,” Dean clarified. “I’m just saying that if this plan has a chance of working, no matter how small, we should go for it.” 

Adam crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look stubborn, but he could see the uncertainty in the kid’s eyes. Sam threw an arm around Adam’s shoulders in a good-natured way. “We’ll keep an eye on you, Adam. Promise.”

“Don’t bother with promises you can’t keep,” Adam said, shaking off the arm and stalking out of the room into the kitchen, clearly done with trying to keep up with the events happening. 

“So, now what? Just look up Pestilence and Death in the phone book for an address and do a drive-by?” Bobby asked. 

“It’s the 21st century Bobby. You’d just Google that,” Dean quipped. 

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Crowley stated. “Now, I may be out of the office, but there are still some loyal contacts out there. I’ll find you those Horsemen, and lead you right to their doorstep.”

“Who are the Horsemen?” Baby asked.

“Powerful entities that Lucifer raised and are now walking the Earth, causing death and destruction in their wake,” Crowley explained. “They’re not much fun at parties.”

“You’d think those would be the exact parties you like,” Baby said. She gave the demon a hard look. “Isn’t death and chaos your thing, _demon_?”

“I’m a businessman first, _car_ ,” Crowley shot back. “Dead humans don’t make contracts, and don’t go to Hell for the most part. The Apocalypse is bad for business. Until I sniff out a trail to follow, keep your noses clean, boys,” were Crowley’s last words as he disappeared without a trace. 

~*~

The next twenty four hours were quiet as everyone stayed at Bobby’s place, awaiting the demon to return with news of the Horsemen. Sam scoured the internet for signs of major supernatural activity and continued to talk to Adam even when the younger brother refused to continue the conversation. He continued to shoot Dean disappointed looks but Dean didn’t care. Honestly, he felt a little lighter, a little brighter. 

Dean even managed to pull aside his car and angel and apologize to them for his harsh words. _‘I wasn’t calling you useless, I was saying you were useless in that situation—oh, forget it! I didn’t mean it like that, okay?’_

Well, he apologized in his own way. 

The night was uncomfortable because Sam, Dean, and Adam were forced to sleep in the panic room. Since Michael’s minions were now after Adam and Dean (and Lucifer was still an unwelcome guest in Sam’s mind) the angel-proof panic room was the best place to try and sleep without fear of the angels gaining entry inside. Dean and Cas dragged his mattress down from his room to make it slightly more comfortable. 

“Just pretend it’s a sleepover,” Sam said cheerfully to Adam while Dean grumbled about sharing his bed. 

Adam sighed. “Let’s get something straight. I’m not stupid. You two don’t trust me, fine, but at least tell me that to my face.”

“We’re all on the Angelic Wanted Posters, Adam. Don’t get a swelled head thinking this is all about you,” Dean muttered as he settled into his half of the bed, Sam in the other. 

Adam got the cot, and he looked at the brothers with his eyebrows arched. “I better not find you two spooning or I’ll kill myself just to spite you.”

“What the hell? First everyone thinks I wanna do Baby, now my little brother? I’M NOT THAT FRIGGIN’ BROKEN _OR DESEPERATE_!!!” 

Adam actually laughed at that, and the sound made Dean grin. Maybe this time they could do right by Adam. Show him what family was truly about. Seemed the kid was already getting the ‘be as annoying as possible’ part of being a younger sibling down pat.


	14. Distraction

“I should be in there with him,” she said again as she paced back and forth. “Dammit, I should’ve been in there with him.” 

“It’s Death, you moron. If he wants to kill Dean even you couldn’t stop him,” Crowley snapped at the impatient Impala. “Calm down.”

“He _is_ taking a while,” Adam noted. He turned to look at Crowley, the demon eyeing the front of the pizzeria nervously. “Is that a good sign or a bad one?”

“As long as Dean hasn’t keeled over, it’s fine,” Crowley barked. He kept nervously glancing over every person that hurried past them; the powerful winds whipped up by Death’s presence was sending people scattering for safety—few noticed the three figures loitering in the alley across from a pizza parlor. 

“What’s stuck in your exhaust pipe?” Baby retorted. 

“We’re exposed, and Dean’s trying to make a deal with Death of all beings! Excuse me if I’m a bit nervous that we’re aren’t going to come out of this alive. Or, existing, or whatever it is you’re doing.” 

“I just hope Sam, Bobby, and Cas are doing just as well as we are,” she said simply. 

“I have total confidence in Robert’s abilities to complete domestic acts of terrorism,” Crowley said. “His name is almost as well-known as the Winchesters. Long as puppy-eyes and trench coat don’t screw up, everything will be fine.” 

A crying voice called out against the wind and all three leaned out to see a man in a suit with a wooden sign over his body walking down the sidewalk towards them. _The End is Here! Are you Saved?_ The board proclaimed.

“Friends! Are you saved? Have you accepted the end is coming? Will you do what you must do?” the man cried out, pausing in front of them. 

“Get lost!” Crowley barked angrily, and the man sprinted away from the demon’s tone. “I hate those doom and gloom types,” The demon muttered sullenly to himself. 

“There! Dean’s coming out,” Baby announced as the hunter—still alive—hustled his way across the deserted street. 

“How’d it go?” Adam asked. 

Dean nodded but did not smile as he pulled out from his jacket a ring with a white stone in it. “Got the low-down on how the portal works too. Now, just need to meet back up with Sammy and put a plan together. Crowley, do you think you could—Crowley?”

Dean, Adam, and Baby looked around but the demon was nowhere in sight. “Unreliable asshole, where the hell—“

“South America, by the looks of it. He couldn’t run fast enough when he saw us coming. Too bad, I was looking forward to swatting that little fly.” 

Dean’s stomach dropped to his toes when he heard that familiar, condescending tone behind them. Sure enough, Zachariah with several other angels were standing there, watching every move of the Winchesters and the human Impala. Baby automatically moved between the angels and the boys. 

“How’d you find us?” Dean demanded. In his mind he was praying as loudly as possible to Castiel. 

“During these trying times, we’ve had to enlist the help of certain religious sects,” the angel said with a shrug and apologetic smile. 

“The soothsayer?” Adam asked incredulously. 

“Not so much sooth when he was only speaking truth,” Zachariah said. “Oh, and Dean? You can keep shouting until you’re blue in the face, but we’ve cut off Castiel’s ability to hear your prayers. He’s not going to save you this time.” 

Zachariah clapped his hands together in glee. “So, we’re going to take you back to Heaven now, and you’re going to say the magic word and we are finally going to get this party started. How’s that sound, Dean?”

“I appreciate the invitation but I’m going to have to decline,” he answered. 

“Sorry, Dean, that’s not an option. Grab Dean, kill the kid and the car-lady,” Zachariah ordered the angels. 

“Come near me and you’ll get a repeat performance as last time. Your stooges can watch as I run you over a few thousand times,” Baby snarled. 

Zachariah tapped his chin and grinned. “Change in plans. Grab both Winchesters and I’ll kill the car-lady,” he said. Instantly Dean and Adam were grabbed by several angels and disappeared just as instantly. 

“No, wai--!” Baby snarled but Zachariah’s fist to her midriff cut off the surprised cry. He grabbed her by the shoulders and whipped her body into the brick wall of the building next door. Plaster and brick fell from the wall as she hung, stunned, from the broken structure. 

“I wasn’t ready last time, but this time I’ve planned ahead. I honestly never cared about human machines, but I’m going to truly enjoy taking you apart to the last bolt.”

Baby didn’t speak, but she grabbed two bricks and brought them together on Zachariah’s temples. He brushed the blow off and ripped her out of the wall before punting her down the alleyway with an evil cackle. Her body slammed into a metal dumpster and it caved in around her like aluminum foil, trapping her momentarily. She bent the twisted metal away from her body and managed to pull herself out of the wreckage, swearing colorfully as her left leg came out horribly mangled. 

“Dean’s gonna _kill you_ when he sees this,” she said while motioning towards her leg. I’m glad whatever Crowley did made it so I can’t feel pain! 

“Let him try,” Zachariah sneered as he dodged the flying hunk of metal that was the rest of the dumpster was thrown at him. It raced past him at an unnatural speed and embedding itself in a building across the street. Death’s presence made sure there were no collateral damage—everyone in the area was already dead. The angel turned back to see Baby struggling down the alley, trying to find something to fight or defend herself with.

“I’ve been wanting to wring that little bastard’s neck for a while. Did he really think he could get one over on me? Ha! Your precious little Dean will say yes and his baby brothers will kick the bucket for you. Then it’ll be the scrapyard for you. Oh, maybe it would be fitting to make you the last relic of humanity that we keep around once Paradise is realized. Force you to wander the world you failed to protect, the humans you failed to protect. Such a touching little soap opera will be fun to watch.”

Zachariah appeared before her without warning; moving faster than she anticipated, he punched his fist straight through her gut. Her eyes grew wide in surprise as black oil erupted from the ragged hole in her stomach and dripped from her lips. With a vicious grin on his face Zachariah jerked his hand out and was holding a dented master cylinder, covered in oil. Baby fell to the ground, hand over her wound and an unsure, frightened look on her face. 

“Why aren’t you dead?” The angel hissed when she started to drag herself away from him. He chucked the cylinder aside and watched her struggle. 

“I’m a Grade A piece of American engineering,” Baby managed to hiss, a gurgle of oil woven through her words. “I can’t die.”

“Interesting theory. Let’s see how it holds up as I dismantle you down to the last screw!” Zachariah said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the sound that came out was a surprised gurgle as an angel blade pierced through his chest from the back.

Zachariah fell to the ground, a surprised look on his face when he saw the bloody blade in Castiel’s hand, who had managed to sneak up and get the drop on him from behind. 

Baby tapped her temple. “You might’ve…blocked _Dean’s and Adam’s_ prayers,” she said with a triumphant grin despite the growing pool of black and green under her crumpled form.

Baby and Castiel shielded their eyes from the explosion of Grace that burned Zachariah’s wings into the ground and up the side of another brick building. The angel grabbed Baby’s arm and pulled it around his shoulders to help keep her standing. He handed her the master cylinder, concern on his face. 

“I’ve never been comfortable hurting or killing other angels,” Castiel said stiffly. “Zachariah turned out to be an exception.” 

“I only wished I could have road-hauled him into oblivion,” Baby muttered, cradling the bit of machinery to her chest. She was barely able to stand, and it was taking most of Castiel’s strength to keep her upright.

“Is what you said true?” Castiel couldn’t help but ask. “You cannot die?”

“How the hell would I know? I was… _stalling_ ‘til you got here. For an angel who flies you sure take your sweet time gettin’ anywhere,” she mumbled slowly. She stumbled and dropped like a stone to the ground, unable to figure out how to keep herself up. “I need to get to a garage. I need _Dean_ ,” she said slowly. 

“They took both of them?” Castiel clarified. 

“Yeah. Crowley ran before the angels showed up, there’s no telling where he got off too. I knew we couldn’t trust that patch of hell smog,” she snapped, though loss of oil was making her tone soft. 

“Oh, so I guess you don’t want me to give you the exact location the boys were taken to, then?” Crowley asked smugly as he appeared right in front of them. “Funny, I was pretty sure you’d want that particular info.”

“Why’d you run?” Baby demanded. 

“Because my ass looks fantastic as it gets smaller and smaller in the horizon. Look, maybe I’m not suicidal enough to challenge an angel to a death match, hm? See, it’s comments like that that show exactly why the Winchesters die as often as they do.” 

“Where are they, Crowley?” Castiel said demanded.

“Van Nuys, California,” Crowley said. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“We’re gonna go get them, right? We have to go now, before the angels hurt Dean and Adam.”

“Crowley, will you assist one more time?” Castiel asked. 

“My deal was to help with the Horsemen. Horsemen are gone, rings are got. I’ve stuck my ass out enough as is for a few lifetimes for you morons.” 

“Then at least fix me,” Baby said. “We’ll handle it from there. You can go crawling back into whatever hole you came from and see if the world ends or not.”

“Perfect,” Crowley said with a snap of his fingers. Baby’s leg was immediately fine and the master cylinder was back in her unmarked stomach. 

“Not much of a mechanic, but that should do until Squirrel can do you proper,” Crowley snapped. The demon turned to leave but immediately spun around with a glare. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a black rubber ball the size of a baseball and tossed it to them. 

Castiel caught it and was intrigued by the deep gouges and scratches all over the surface of the object. “What’s this?”

“That, winged one, is a last resort _only_ If you need to cause some chaos, squeeze the ball, throw, and get out of the way. Here’s to hoping you morons survive this latest round of Save the Winchester.”

~*~

The large warehouse looked deserted when Baby and Castiel suddenly appeared in front of it. Baby ended up getting momentarily distracted when Castiel almost collapsed to the ground. She managed to catch him, but just barely. 

“Cas, I’m getting that uncomfortable ‘we’ve been down this road already’ feeling. Did you just run outta gas?” she asked. 

“The traveling, the fighting, it’s taken its toll,” Castiel said, breathing heavy. “I have enough to get them out. I hope I do anyway.”

“Where are we?”

“The Green Room. It’s the same place Dean was brought when Lucifer was released,” Castiel said, finally able to straighten up and stand on his own, the wave of dizziness mostly abated. 

“Why didn’t the angels take the boys straight upstairs?”

“Only the dead and angels can go to Heaven. The vessel has to be alive in order to be occupied.”

“Thank goodness for small favors. So…now what?”

Castiel looked over the building carefully. “We must determine the best way to get inside and grab Dean and Adam without alerting the angels inside. If we’re careful, we can—“

Castiel’s voice stopped and he clutched his head in his hands, groaning slightly. Baby was there, unsure what to do but patting his back and trying not to panic. 

“Zachariah…summoned Michael before I killed him. The archangel is coming,” Castiel hissed. “We have to get them out, now, or there will be no saving them.” 

“You got that ball Crowley gave you?” was all Baby asked. 

The warehouse was empty except a small shed-like structure in the middle, and there were almost a dozen angels standing guard around it. The main doors to the warehouse blew open with incredible force, gaining the attention of all the angels inside.

In the open door stood Castiel and Baby, who was tossing the ball into the air and catching it. She squeezed the ball hard and immediately frowned at it when it started speaking. “Oh…oh, god, yes! Yes….please, oh, oooooh…..” the ball moaned lewdly in a female voice. 

Castiel and Baby looked at each other and shrugged. With tremendous force she threw the ball into the pack of incoming angels. “Come and get it, Featherbrains!” 

Baby and Castiel readied themselves for a dangerous fight. The only plan they had was to beat their way through the angels and try to bust their way into the Green Room and snatch the boys before Michael arrived. 

Things got a little side-tracked when a baying howl sounded outside the warehouse. Something huge and invisible ran past Baby, shoving her aside at its entrance. As the rubber ball continued to make incredibly lewd noises and bounce around, the angels found themselves being tackled, trampled, and knocked about by an unseen assailant. 

Baby and Cas shared a look and forced their way through the sudden chaos. They had to dodge attacking angels and an overgrown hellhound determined to chase his favorite ball around the warehouse. Once she got a running start she punched her way through the angels still standing with all the power and speed she could muster. The angels, not expecting the human to be almost as strong as them, were tossed through the air like ragdolls. 

Castiel moved with power and grace as he fought his way through the stragglers. His angel blade flashed as he moved from one angel to the next. The explosions of Grace that trailed after him looked like macabre fireworks as he continued to fight off the stunned angels. 

Baby ducked another angel as he stumbled past her, knocked off his feet by the wayward hound. The shed was unguarded now; she put on a burst of speed and made a beeline straight for the wall—

_BOOM! CRASH!!_ Dean and Adam, who had been inspecting the wall on the opposite side of the Green Room, whipped around when the wall exploded behind them. From the cloud of dust stumbled a familiar figure. 

“Baby?!” Both brothers asked in unison. 

She chuckled in a tired fashion. “That,” she said, pointing to the wall, “is becoming a favorite move of mine.” 

Dean and Adam still looked a little stunned when the ground started to shake violently under them. They looked at each other and made a break for the hole she had created. 

“Come on!” she demanded, “Michael’s almost here, let’s go!” 

The force of the shaking ground made Dean stumble, and Adam got hit with a falling candelabra. The gash on his head started bleeding freely and he was disoriented from the blow. 

Dean jumped through the hole and whipped around to help Adam when he saw his kid brother stumbling blindly towards them, blood in his eyes and the quaking ground keeping him from getting to the exit. 

“Adam!” Dean shouted, but his words were cut off as the wall magically repaired itself right before his eyes. 

“ADAM!!” Baby screamed—she began pounding on the wall with what was left of her strength, Dean joining her. “We’ll get you out!” 

“Dean, Baby, help me!” was all they could hear from the other side. “There’s a light! Dean, help me, _there’s a light_ \--!” 

“Close your eyes!” Castiel commanded behind them—he reached around and covered their eyes with his hands before whipping them around, his back pointed to the Green Room. The thunderous noise around them suddenly stopped, leaving their ears ringing and dulled. 

“Adam…” Dean moaned when he turned to see the angels and the Green Room had disappeared without a trace.


	15. High Noon Redo

_I know you won’t stop. I know you won’t say yes to Michael, and I know you won’t kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up here._

Dean couldn’t even be bothered to touch his open beer as Lucifer’s words tumbled end-over-end in his mind for the millionth time. He pulled apart the rings on the table and slowly inched them together until they fused together with a metallic clink. 

“You do know we’re doing the right thing?” Bobby asked him, sitting on the opposite end of the picnic table in the garage. 

“Then why does it feel like I’m drowning, here, Bobby?” Dean asked quietly, his gruff voice uneven with pain. 

“Because letting someone you love go is the most painful thing in the world,” Bobby said simply. “But he’s a good kid. Strong, smart has a heart of gold. We should be feeling bad for the Devil considering it’ll be Sam he’s tackling. Boy’s got a stubborn streak that managed to cow John.” 

Dean chuckled but it was without much mirth. “So, what’s the plan again?”

“Well, according to sources, there’s some heavy duty demon activity between here and Detroit. We’ll drain ‘em on the way. Hate to do that to the kid since he’s gotten clean twice now….” 

Dean got up and walked out of the garage, eyes scanning the place and finally spotting Sam and Baby sitting on the hood of a rusted out shell of a sedan. They were just far enough away that Dean couldn’t hear their words. They’d been talking for the past hour, but for once Dean didn’t want to pry. 

~*~

“Are you nervous, Sam?” the Impala asked, looking up at the clouds drifting lazily past. 

“That’s not really the word I’d use,” he said. “I’m going to mentally fight the Devil for control of my body and try to fling myself into the Cage in Hell in order to save the world. Terrified, nauseous, those are slightly more accurate. But, I have to do this.” 

He glanced at the Impala with a watchful eye. “You’re not going to smack me and call me an idiot? Demand I don’t do this? Or threaten to run over Lucifer?”

Baby sighed. “Would doing any of that change anything? I know you, Sam. You always try to do the right thing. This is, unfortunately, one of those things. As much as I want to shove you into my trunk and drive you somewhere where even the angels can’t find you, I know how you are. However, I would _gladly_ run him over if given the chance. So, if there is an opening, you might want to jump out the way.” 

“I guess I’m honestly surprised Dean is letting me do this. He’s not really arguing with me or anything.” 

“You’ve grown up, Sam. You are your own person now, and Dean’s realizing he can’t protect you forever.” 

Baby reached her arm out and ruffled Sam’s hair in a friendly manner. “Actually…I’m starting to figure that out, too. I know I’m a golem, I know I’m supposed to watch out for you boys, but I guess I also have to accept that I can’t always be the one to pull you from the fire. No matter what happens, thought, I’ll always be proud of you. You, Dean, and Adam are my boys, got it? Which means I’ll always watch out for you. You’re doing the right thing, Sam.” 

“Thank you,” Sam said sincerely. For a few moments it was quiet, peaceful even. 

“Baby, I have…something I want to give you,” Sam said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar token. Baby’s eyes widened when Sam placed the necklace over her head, the heavy weight of the horned amulet comforting against her skin.

“Dean’s necklace?” she asked, turning it over in her hands. 

“Not Dean’s anymore. It’s yours. It’s for protection,” Sam said. He remembered sneaking back into the motel to grab it from the trash can Castiel had dropped it in. Even if Dean and Cas were so discouraged by the war and no longer could find their hope, Sam could. 

Sam hadn’t given the amulet to Dean to find God. He’d given it to his brother for protection. God might not help them in their darkest hour, God might not protect Dean, but the Impala certainly would. She would always protect them. 

“Baby, promise me you’ll…keep an eye on Dean. Castiel and Bobby, too, okay?” Sam said. 

Baby opened her mouth to say something, but ended up shutting it silently. Instead, she nodded once and gave Sam a reassuring hug before she tucked the amulet under her shirt. The hunter seemed to relax slightly, knowing the Impala would be watching over his family. 

They ended up watching the clouds drift by without speaking for another hour before Dean announced it was time to get ready to go to Detroit.

When Dean saw the amulet hanging from the rear-view mirror, he didn’t say anything for several minutes. He honestly couldn’t. Not without breaking the mental dam that was keeping his emotions in check. Sam gave Dean a cursory glance about it, his face asking _That okay_?

Dean simply patted the dashboard, tried to hide the sniffle with a cough, and they were on their way.

~*~

“Dean? You there?” asked the voice on the other end of the line. 

Dean snapped out of his flashback and nodded. “Yeah, sorry Chuck. So, you’re sure it’ll be tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow at high noon in Stull Cemetery outside of Lawrence,” the prophet intoned, reading from his last chapter. 

“Does it say…what happens?” Dean could barely get the question out without his voice cracking. The image of Lucifer smiling through Sam’s face was yet another image that would show up in Dean’s darkest nightmares. 

“No. I haven’t seen that far ahead. And honestly, I’m not sure I will see it, you know?” 

“Yeah. Uh, thanks again, Chuck,” Dean said somberly. 

“Dean, you’ve done everything you could to fight this. Don’t blame yourself for anything that happens, alright?” Chuck said sternly. 

“Sure. Just, uh, you might want to hold onto any toilet paper you’ve got lying around,” Dean said. 

“Toilet paper? What’re you--?”

“Later, Chuck.” 

Baby, Castiel, and Bobby watched Dean as he came back in from the kitchen, looking at his phone like the answers to the universe were trapped in it somewhere. 

“High Noon in Stull Cemetery outside of Lawrence,” Dean said to the waiting faces. 

“We’re going, right?” Baby asked, but everyone already knew the answer. 

“You really think I’d sit here and twiddle my thumbs?” Bobby asked rhetorically. “We’ll be there.” 

Dean nodded silently. “I just need 5 minutes to talk to Sam without Michael being there,” he said, locking his eyes on Castiel. The former angel nodded. 

“You’ll get your five minutes,” Cas promised. Dean nodded, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and headed outside towards the garage. No one followed him. 

Castiel turned to the Impala. “Baby, I need you to listen to me and Bobby carefully. We might have a plan.”

“A plan?” she asked. Castiel nodded. 

“Yes. We might have an idea that can stop Michael and Lucifer from fighting. And we need your help,” the angel explained quickly and quietly. 

“Great! Let me just grab Dean and—“

“No,” Castiel cut her off. “We can’t tell Dean. It could jeopardize the entire thing.”

Baby narrowed his eyes at Castiel. From the way Bobby looked, he and the angel had already hashed this out once, and Castiel had won that round, too. 

“Why can’t we let Dean in on this?” she asked pointedly. 

Castiel sighed, but Bobby spoke up first. “Apparently Dean knowing what’s up might tip off the angelic assholes,” the old hunter said. He still looked uncomfortable with the idea.

“Wouldn’t some hope be better than no hope?” Baby asked. 

Castiel’s eyes bore into her. “If this plan doesn’t work, what would have been the point of telling Dean?” 

She opened her mouth, but closed it. Good question, and one she couldn’t answer. 

“You are all the hope we have left, Baby,” the angel said solemnly. 

“No pressure,” Bobby said. 

Baby looked at them, and her hand drifted to the amulet around her neck. She had promised to watch over Dean and Sam. They were counting on her. Now more than ever. 

“Alright. What’s the plan?”

~*~

Adam’s face contorted with terrible agony as Castiel’s holy oil cocktail exploded on the archangel. He burned away, temporarily bested but would get back quickly with a vengeance. 

Castiel nodded to Dean. “You got your five minutes.” 

“Castiel,” Lucifer said coldly as Sam’s eyes narrowed in rage. “Did you just Molotov my brother?”

The angel didn’t even have time to respond before a snap of Lucifer’s fingers caused him to burst like an overinflated blood-filled balloon. Bobby’s head twisted around and Dean grimaced at the terrible snap that was followed by his body falling to the ground. 

“Sam, please, I know you’re in there,” Dean started, but Lucifer was not having any of it. He drew back his fist and clocked Dean across the jaw, knocking the hunter to the ground and stunning him momentarily. 

“I told you before, Dean,” Lucifer said with a cruel smile. “I always win.” 

Dean sat up against the Impala, his head lolling to the sides as Lucifer turned his face into hamburger. “Sa—Sammy---I’m nah leavin’ ou, Shammy!” Dean slurred out around a broken jaw and swelling cheeks. 

Lucifer hauled back his fist with the intention of knocking Dean’s head clean off with it. Instead of connecting with Dean’s face, it connected with Baby’s cheek, slicing open the skin under her eye, yet she didn’t flinch or waiver. 

Her silver eyes zeroed in on Sam; she was using her body as a shield to protect Dean, and her arms were crossed over her body to defend against the onslaught.

_I didn’t summon her,_ Dean realized through the pain clouding most of his mind. _I know I didn’t…how?_

“I’m not sitting this out! I’m going to be here for you!” Baby said sternly even as Lucifer landed another blow to her temple. “Sammy! What’re you waiting for, get outta the passenger seat and drive!” she barked. 

“We’ll see who’s going to be road paste now,” Lucifer said, getting a couple hard punches in until his eyes locked on her hands. The backs of her hands were towards him, and he could see the blocky, carved letters scarred into her skin. _D.W. and S.W_. 

The eyes, the metallic glint of the horned amulet hanging around her neck, the initials. It all worked to make Lucifer pause as images of the past years, both during childhood and while working with Dean, flashed in his mind. 

_Dean and Sam getting into wrestling matches in the backseat when they were kids._

_The stupid pranks they pulled on each other during cross-country road trips to make the boring miles more interesting._

_The arguments and fist-fights they’d gotten into._

_The talks, the laughs, doubts, fears, and hopes that they had shared since Jess’s death._

_Dean teaching Sam how to take care of her before he had been dragged to Hell._

_Drinking beer on the side of the road, overlooking a scenic mountain range, not speaking but simply enjoying the view and company._

_Dean and him in the backseat as little kids, taking one of Dad’s hunting knives and carving those initials into the paneling of the door._

_D.W. and S.W._

The fist faltered, and the angry look on Sam’s face melted into one of confusion and terror. “Baby?” Sam asked. Even as he looked around his hand fumbled in his pocket for the key. With a careful toss the four rings hit the ground, causing a gaping black hole to appear only feet away. 

“Sam!” Baby said, jumping up as Sam backed to the edge of the hole. He looked down into it with morbid fascination and growing determination. 

“No!” A voice yelled behind them as Michael reappeared. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go! I have to fight Lucifer; I have to follow Father’s word! I won’t be bested like this!” Michael roared. 

Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall backwards into the hole. Michael darted forward and grabbed Sam’s shoulder but Sam jerked backwards and Michael found himself falling into the Pit as well---

Something grabbed their arms and they stopped short, the pull of the Pit almost jerking their arms right out of their sockets. Sam looked up to see Baby on the edge of the hole, one arm holding onto his hand while the other had a squirming Michael. 

“What’re you doing!” Lucifer demanded as he hung helplessly in the air—Baby could tell the Devil was back in control from the hard glint to Sam’s usually softer hazel eyes. 

“You’ve got one chance, you flying bastards!” Baby yelled over the roaring of the black hole. Her feet and knees dug into the ground to keep her from tumbling head over heels with them—she had to concentrate to let her full weight of one and a half tons rest on the ground over the lip to keep the two archangels from slipping out of her grasp. 

“Let. My. Sons. _Go_.” 

“Release us at once!” Michael demanded. He reached up and struck her arms with powerful blows but her grip didn’t lessen. 

“Omnipotensis Dei potestatem invoco…” Baby roared, her Latin pronunciation flawless though she spoke quickly. Lucifer couldn’t help the roar of pain that erupted from him as the words hit home—it made him want to let go of her hand just to get away from her. He could feel himself squirm inside Sam’s skin, trying to escape the pain which was like raw nerves touching   
burning metal. 

“Omnipotensis Dei potestatem invoco…!” she yelled again. Michael let out a tortured scream and tried to flap his wings to launch himself out of the hole, but the winds were too strong. In a final act of desperation he whipped out his angel blade and stabbed it right through her arm. Her grip weakened and he managed to jerk himself free. 

“Michael!!” Lucifer screamed, reaching out and grabbing his brother’s hand to keep him from tumbling into the Cage. Michael looked strangely at Lucifer’s hand as it held his own, as it kept him from plummeting into the black maw. 

Baby lifted up her damaged arm and gripped the angel blade with her teeth and yanked it out of her arm with brutal efficiency. She swore loudly as she felt her body slip towards the edge—having both angels on one arm was wearing her out, she was going to be following the boys right into the Pit. 

Sudden weight dropped onto her legs, and Baby glanced back to see Dean had flopped himself on top of her legs, the weight stilling her sliding descent for a few seconds. 

With her empty hand she grabbed the amulet in a hard grip, just enough for the pressure of the horns against her skin to give her something to concentrate on. 

“Omnipotensis Dei potestatem invoco…Domine in CAELO!!” she roared. 

Sam and Adam let out matching screeches of pain (or maybe it was Lucifer and Michael?) and twin bursts of light exploded from the brothers. The light started flying up towards the sky, but the pull of the Pit was too powerful—the blinding lights of the archangels disappeared into the black void underneath. 

Though exhausted, Baby managed to pull the boys out of the hole just before it closed behind them, permanently sealing the archangels deep in the Cage within Hell. 

Baby lay on her back, breathing labored and eyes closed for several seconds as she got her bearings. With a groan of pain she sat up to see Sam starting to stir and Dean groan with pain. Adam lay still, barely breathing but still alive. 

Dean opened his eyes when something blocked the sunlight overhead. One swollen eye opened just enough to see Castiel standing over him, the angel’s face calm and serene. The angel leaned down and touched two fingers to Dean’s head. Instantly Dean’s face and body was healed. 

The hunter sat up and fixed a wide-eyed look of awe on his face. “Cas…are you God?” he asked. 

Castiel chuckled. “No Dean. Just an angel.” He made his way to Bobby and with a single touch the old hunter was getting back to his feet. 

“Cas, something’s wrong with Adam,” Sam said in a worried tone. He had rolled over towards Adam, but the youngest Winchester hadn’t moved. Castiel kneeled on the other side of his still body, tilting his head at the boy. 

“Michael did terrible things to get him to consent. He’s locked in a corner of his own mind,” Castiel said. He reached forward and placed both hands on Adam’s cheeks. His eyes closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. After a solid minute went by and there was no change, it seemed like a lost cause. 

Adam’s eyes fluttered open, and he immediately fixed his eyes on Sam and Dean’s worried faces. “Dean, you’re right,” Adam said after a loud hacking cough forced itself from his chest, like he hadn’t been breathing in a very long time. “Most angels are _assholes_.” 

Dean gathered Sam and Adam into his arms and gave them the biggest hug he could manage. “We’re alive, that’s all I care about,” Dean said. He turned back to Baby, still lying on her back and looking exhausted. “What did you do?”

“Angelic exorcism,” she said simply. 

“How the hell did you know that?!” Dean demanded. 

She motioned towards Bobby and Castiel. “They taught it to me last night. Cas thought it might expel the archangels from the boys and kick ‘em into the Cage.” 

Dean got up, followed by Sam, and both tackled the angel with back-breaking hugs. Dean broke apart from Castiel and gave him a good handshake while Sam gave Bobby a powerful hug. 

“Careful, ya idjit! Hug me any tighter and you’ll just cripple me again,” Bobby joked good naturedly. 

“So, we won?” Adam asked, able to get up and join them. 

“We won! We beat Heaven and Hell, Dean! The Apocalypse is over!” Sam whooped. There was lots of yelling, hugs, and handshakes all around when the weight of the realization hit them. 

They’d averted the Apocalypse!

Dean slung a friendly arm over Castiel’s shoulders. “I can’t believe it, man! You were right,” Dean said with a smile that lit up his whole face. 

“About what, Dean?”

“My friggin’ car just _saved the world_!”

“This calls for a celebration,” Bobby said with a hearty laugh. “Cas, mind snapping us back to my place?” 

Castiel nodded once. Instantly everyone was standing in Bobby’s gravel driveway, ready to drink themselves stupid in celebration. 

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” a smooth voice said behind them. Everyone turned to see the demon smirking at them. “You actually managed the impossible. Not bad for chronic, alcoholic screw-ups.” Crowley said smartly.

“Thanks for your overwhelming vote of confidence,” Bobby said. “Why are you here?”

“Just returning home to cement my title as King when I thought I’d offer my congratulations,” Crowley said with a dangerous smirk. 

“King of the Crossroads, right?” Dean said. 

“Not _just_ the Crossroads. Not anymore,” Crowley said but didn’t expand further. “Now then, if we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.” He snapped his fingers and everyone suddenly had a heavy ceramic mug full of golden liquid in their hands. 

Everyone looked at each other warily, but their scowls dropped when Crowley held his cup up in the air, sincerity on his face. “To Gabriel and Loki,” he said. 

When no one moved, he sighed in irritation. “I’ve got no intention of killing you idiots. Pain in the arse he was, but without him the world would literally be going to the basement right now, and not in the good way.”

“You’re a demon, you don’t have feelings or friends,” Dean said, but his tone seemed to be asking. 

“True, but I’m also not a complete asshole,” Crowley snapped, motioning towards Bobby’s legs as evidence. “You don’t deal with someone for a century or so and not develop _some_ type of rapport with them.”

Cas checked the glasses. “They’re not poisoned,” he assured them, looking at his own glass with wry curiosity. 

“Works for me,” Bobby said in a huff. Following the oldest hunter’s example, they slowly raised their cups up in the toast and murmured the archangel’s name before they drank.

“Whoa, it tastes like sugar—ish thish meaduh?” Dean asked, although he’d barely let his lips touch the stuff yet they were already numb and his words were slurred. 

“Pagans did know how to throw a party,” Crowley said with a pained grin which disappeared as he dumped some out onto the ground. “Think he’d like the touch.”

“Dean, you should totally fill my tank up with this, I bet I could drive ‘cross the continent on one tank!” Baby babbled in excitement. 

“So…what’re you going to do now?” Crowley asked the group, quite curious what the Winchesters would do now that the biggest bad of them all was locked away for eternity. 

“Definitely a real vacation,” Bobby said. “I’m too old for this mess.” 

“Want some company?” Crowley asked brightly. 

“Bite me, asshat. Still ain’t forgiven you for the Colt nonsense,” Bobby said, though his tone wasn’t very harsh. 

“Looks like I’ll never hear the end of it,” Crowley said in mock despair. He finished up his drink and waved to the gathering. “Welp, no offense, but here’s to hoping I _never_ see any of you ever again,” the newly minted King of Hell said before disappearing. 

Castiel tilted his head at Adam. “Adam, if you’re interested, I could take you back to Heaven,” the angel said. “I can even find your mother’s heaven and let you visit it.” 

“I could see my Mom again?” he said. His eyes flickered over the faces of people he had only recently met, but felt like he’d known for years. “Would anyone be offended if I--?”

“Dude, she’s family,” Dean said. “Not a problem in the least.”

“We will miss you, though,” Sam said. 

“It was nice to see you all grown up, Adam,” Baby added. “Just don’t forget about us.” 

He looked around at them again, and a grin plastered itself to his face. “You know what? My mom’s not going anywhere, right? I’m sure she won’t mind waiting to see me again. I’ll take you up on that offer in about a lifetime, okay…Cas?”

The angel nodded, a small grin on his face with Adam’s use of the Winchester nickname. He looked at Dean, sighing. “Heaven will be in disarray—with the Host is reeling from the loss of Michael’s guidance, the angels will be in chaos. I’m the only one who can restore order,” Castiel intoned gravelly. 

“You sure you can’t stay for a drink? We just beat everything!” Sam said. 

Castiel tilted his head in thought, then smiled “The mead is good,” he said. “Thought I must get back quickly.” 

Dean stuck out his hand and the angel shook it with practiced familiarity and warmth. “Don’t be a stranger, Cas. Don’t _just_ come down here on business,” Dean said. “Though, obviously, give us a shout if you need it.” 

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel promised. He shook hands with everyone, though he paused when he caught sight of the amulet around Baby’s neck. 

The Impala grinned. “I’ll be watching over them, Cas. Don’t worry about us.”

“Yes, I suppose you will,” Castiel said, although he didn’t seem to be speaking to the car right then. 

“You know what? I think a vacation is a great idea,” Dean said suddenly. He threw an arm around Adam’s neck and gave his youngest brother a good-natured noogie. “We’ll let some other hunters handle Apocalypse clean-up. How about Sammy goes and becomes a big shot lawyer and I teach Adam here how to properly take apart an engine?”

“I’m not volunteering for that job,” Baby said with a teasing grin. 

Sam laughed again. It felt so easy to laugh now, even stupid things would make him roar with uncontrollable giggles. Who knew that not having the weight of the world on one’s shoulders would make you feel so light?

The fact that Dean suggested Sam go off and finish his degree made him grin, but he knew in his heart it wasn’t really what he wanted right then. 

“You know what? Honestly, I’m happy right where I am,” Sam said, causing Dean to pause but then smile.

Bobby had his legs back, the Impala was an awesome human, Adam was alive and Dean wasn’t worried about anything. Castiel would get Heaven under control and Crowley was running the show downstairs. 

Things were good. 

….

….

….

“Dammit! That smug bastard _still_ has my soul!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, folks! Took three months and over a dozen rewrites but I’m finally happy with it! 
> 
> At the moment this series is done, though I have an AWESOME idea for a final story in this series, a re-write of season 6 that would actually be pretty sweet. It would give the Dragons, Eve, and the Phoenix the epic story line they deserved. I’m going to give it a few months to simmer and try to work on other projects, then I’ll see how I feel about it. If anyone’s interested in such a story, obviously let me know!
> 
> Did you love it, hate it? Was it a sequel worthy of the original fic? Let me know in the comments!]

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and reviews are appreciated! They're the only payment I get for this, after all! ;)


End file.
